In the Family Way
by Vicki So
Summary: Royal pregnancies, crazy fans and a whole new war against a not-that-deadly foe...does it get any more cracktastic than this? Drabble series sequel to "Til Death Do Us Part." COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**Once upon a time, I created a series called "Til Death Do Us Part" about the nuptial proceedings of a certain Firebender and a certain Waterbender. It wasn't canon, but this is fanfiction, and the word "canon" gives Zuko nosebleeds. **

**But life doesn't end with marriage...**

**(Insert standard "I don't own Avatar obviously--I just do this for kicks" disclaimer here.)  
**

* * *

**Prologue --OR -- Reap What You Sow  
**

* * *

A year has passed since Fire Lord Zuko's magnificent wedding to Master Waterbender and hero of the realm, the Mighty Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Scribes, scholars and historians are still penning descriptions of the fantastic opulence of the nuptial event, and it continues to be the talk in every town across the globe. 

It was a ceremony to remember, one which ended with the pardoning of Ozai and the family's reunion with the estranged Fire Matron Ursa. To the great surprise of the world, and the agony of the royal family, Ozai and Ursa decided to renew their own vows and go on their second honeymoon, traveling the world the ex-Fire Lord had once been bent on conquering. His reception at each port was… lukewarm, to say the least.

It had been a miraculously auspicious year. The economies of the four kingdoms were up; trade had opened among the nations; and with such wide-spread prosperity, the last vestiges of the war and bitterness were finally (and again, miraculously) beginning to fade. Everyone was happy. It was a year of bliss, of growth and harmony and—

"Don't ever touch me again, you lech!" The ear-piercing shriek came—as usual—from the Fire Lord and Lady's suite.

Zuko, a little older but not a whole lot wiser, skittered out of his quarters, robes and top-knot askew. His exit was closely followed by an icy knife-edged wave of water that just sheared the silk cuff off his billowing sleeve.

He growled as he righted his slovenly appearance, his emotions twisting in the gale-force of his lovely wife's fickle moods.

"Trouble again, my nephew?" General Iroh asked archly. He was leaning against one wall, observing Zuko with a sage, dispassionate look. Somehow, he managed to appear every time the royal couple had an argument.

In typical Zuko-esque fashion, the Fire Lord snorted.

"Ah, so it's _that_ time of the month, is it? And here I was losing track of the days in my old age…" Iroh grinned and sighed. "It's nice to have a routine, don't you think?"

Zuko shot his uncle a menacing look. "It's been a year, Uncle. They might look happy, but the people are starting to get restless. They want to see the royal line continued. All I said to Katara was—"

"We're all waiting, Zuko. Be patient. These things take time." He sipped his tea. A potter in town had recently developed a large insulated tea cup with a handle and an air-tight lid. He called his invention a "travel mug." The old man now took his annoying tea-toting habit with him wherever he went.

"In any case," Iroh went on, "Katara may not be…er, ready yet."

"I know she's ripe, Uncle. I can smell it." Zuko licked his lips.

The old man's brow furrowed. "Perhaps if you were a little more tactful about—"

"There isn't time!" he shouted. He leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial hiss. "If I don't have a baby before Azula spawns her own illegitimate brood of psychopathic demons with one of those…those_moochers_—"

"Are you talking about Jet, Sokka, Haru, or the Avatar?"

"—I will lose face in front of my people, and I could lose my hold on the throne!" He paced.

"I hope you didn't say _that_ to your wife," Iroh admonished him with a raise brow. "Such political talk is not…er, _conducive_ to romantic afternoon interludes."

"I have to seed my wife, Uncle, or she will not produce!" Zuko roared.

In a flurry of movement that Sokka would describe as "a Dragon-of-the-West display of awesome," Iroh had his nephew pinned face-first to the floor in the blink of an eye. One of the Fire Lord's legs was twisted backwards so his heel ground into his groin. Zuko had no idea he could bend that way.

"First off," the old general said tiredly, "stop reading those damned ladies' pillow books and using flowery euphemisms. I may be a dirty old man, but I do not want you using language like that again. Ever."

"But—"

"You don't 'plough' or 'seed' or 'plant' or use any other farming terms to describe sex. And your wife is not a piece of fruit. She is not 'ripe' or 'flowering' or whatever other greenhouse terms you may be tempted to use. Do you understand?"

"But—"

"I said, do you understand?" He ground Zuko's own heel into the V of his legs and the young Fire Lord squeaked and nodded as vigorously as his position would allow.

Iroh released his hold and Zuko got to his feet, glowering.

"Second," Iroh continued, "you are a complete idiot. Where has your sense of romance and your uncanny ability to seduce any breathing woman gone? I remember a time when you couldn't escape those damn fangirls…"

The young Fire Lord wrinkled his nose. "I had guard-dog-bees installed at the palace gates," he explained. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, fidgeting. "I don't know what's happened between us… Things just haven't been…" He shrugged helplessly, sighing. "Just after we got married, Katara and I used to rut like—"

"Say no more," Iroh held up a hand.

"But now—"

"No, really, _say no more,_" the old man insisted. He paced a short distance, tugging on his beard, mulling over his thoughts. Zuko could practically hear the old man riffling through his years of acquired wisdom and experience for just the right thing to say, just the right solution to solve his problem.

And just as he predicted, Iroh suddenly slapped a palm against his thigh. "I know what your problem is!" he declared.

He enunciated it sharply, building up the suspense in that old-wise-man way Zuko hated. Not everything Iroh had to say was so fascinating that it warranted a drawn-out introduction. It made simple small-talk with the old man torturous. "A long time ago," Iroh had begun languidly this morning over breakfast, "I met a woman in the mountains. She made me eggs cooked just like this…" and the meandering tale had gone on for forty more minutes.

"The romance is gone from your life," the old man said rather succinctly. "You need to reinvigorate your marriage and _inspire_ Katara to want to bear your children."

Zuko stared. "I'm her husband and the Fire Lord. Bearing my children, the future rulers of the Fire Nation, is a privilege. And it doesn't take much to invigorate me. If she would just hold still for five minutes—"

Zuko was suddenly facefirst on the floor again.

"What we need," Iroh said, squatting on top of his nephew's prone form, "is some reeducation. A refresher course, shall we say, on romance." He beamed down at the Fire Lord, a happy gold light warming in his eyes. "Zuko, you are going to court your wife."

"_What?"_ The indignity came out on a plume of smoke. "You mean, _again?_"

"It's for the good of your people and for the future of the Fire Nation," Iroh insisted, patting Zuko's bottom avuncularly. "If you want to see your wife produce an heir, you are going to need all the help you can get to lay her."

"Did I just hear my name?" Jet popped his head around a corner. "Oh, hey, General Iroh. Zuko." He winked at them roguishly. "Still hate you guys, but I gotta love your pad." He added, "And your sister."

"Who's touching my sister?" Sokka barreled down the hallway, machete in hand. "Zuko, if you're—"

"Oh, hey, a party!" Aang, buoyant and gangly as ever, scooted in. "Look, Momo, we're playing jump on Zuko's back!" The flying lemur chattered, leapt onto the back Zuko's head, then proceeded to hop up and down, hammering the Fire Lord's nose into the cold, hard marble floor.

Stifling a smile, Iroh rested more of his weight onto the young, seething Fire Lord's back. "Yes, I think we could use your advice and help. And I'm sure the delegates coming to the peace summit next week will have their two cents to put in, as well. Won't that be wonderful, nephew? A big, happy reunion!

"Zuko? Zuko, are you crying…?"

* * *

Short note: I might not be able to update this as often as I'd like. Comments and suggestions are welcome as always. 


	2. Music Night

* * *

**Music Night**

* * *

"Not only will I _not_ play the Sungi horn," Zuko told Aang patiently, "I will especially not play it where all the palace staff can hear me!" 

"Well, whose fault is it for putting your bedroom balcony over the royal garden?" Aang huffed.

The Fire Lord made a mental note to flay the palace's architect. The spacious garden opened into the rest of the palace and had been designed in such a way that the acoustics were pin-drop perfect: any conversation whispered there could be heard in the farther corners of the deepest hall.

"Anyhow, it's a surefire way to get Katara in the mood," Aang went on. "She loves musicians. One time, while we were traveling together, I had this flute and stuck it into—"

"STOP!" Zuko cried out, putting his palms over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. "Just stop! I know you two had some weird thing going, but I don't want to hear what you did with my wife! At all! _Ever!_" He shook his head violently, as if to rattle out the disturbing images popping into his brain.

"—a network of singing groundhog holes," Aang finished, eyeing his friend oddly. "Because they sing, you know. That's what singing groundhogs do. They sing." He shrugged then, a little perplexed at the Fire Lord's reaction. What was wrong with sticking instruments into furry-creature-filled holes?

"Anyhow," the Avatar went on, "the Sungi horn's supposed to be one of the most romantic instruments in the Earth Kingdom. I'll bet you Katara would love to hear you serenade her. C'mon, I'll even back you up."

Zuko was skeptical, but that same night, he grudgingly brought out one of his fifty-four collected Sungi horns. (People just wouldn't stop sending the damn things over.)

Aang met him with an armful of instruments in the garden beneath the balcony. Drums, a triangle, flute, some four-stringed ukulele thing, chimes, and a xylophone spilled out of his grasp, clattering noisily onto the grass.

"Hey, buddy! Ready to make some be-oooo-tiful music?" the Avatar chirruped as he sorted out the pile.

"Aang," Zuko began patiently, "why do you have all those instruments? And what on earth are Momo and Appa doing here?"

Aang grinned. "They're going to help."

"Help?"

"Oh, yeah, Momo's great at percussion. And he's an awesome dancer. Check it out." He motioned to the lemur perching on Appa's great shaggy back. Momo hopped down and peered up at the two men inquisitively.

"Do it, Momo! Dance for us!" Aang insisted.

The lemur stared back, then began licking his crotch.

"No, no! Dance! You know, that funny little— Aw, heck, he's probably just cranky because it's past his bedtime."

Zuko was almost afraid to ask the next question. "And Appa's here…why?" He indicated the air bison, who was noshing on one of the manicured hedges.

Aang answered brightly, "Oh, Appa's going to sing, of course!"

The Fire Lord deadpanned, "Sing."

The monk nodded enthusiastically. "It was one of the most erotic sounds in the Air Temples—the song of the air bison in heat as it's looking for a mate was something you could hear all the time. It was a real test on our vows of celibacy, let me tell you." Aang chuckled. "Appa's not in heat, but he's still one of the best singers around, aren'tchya boy?"

Zuko was beginning to feel less and less silly with the Sungi horn as he stood next to Momo, who batted an egg shaker about, and Appa, who was now munching on the foliage of a very rare, very hard to grow miniature tree.

When the Avatar had finally managed to strap little cymbals to Momo's paws and had wrangled the bison's attention back towards the task at hand, he nodded at Zuko to begin, poising his own dainty bamboo pipe flute.

Sighing, Zuko said, "Okay, I'm going to play a Fire Nation love song. Try to keep up."

And he began.

Now, Zuko, unused to being good at anything, had never thought much about his musical talents. But he was the Fire Lord, after all, and some modicum of aptitude must have been passed down through the generations because Zuko wasn't just good: he was, as Sokka would grudgingly put it, "made of so much awesome when he played the Sungi horn that he could play it out his cave of one lover and no one would know the difference."

Not that anyone could ever decipher that comment as either an insult or a compliment.

And so it was that night as Fire Lord Zuko serenaded his wife, the woman he loved, the future mother of his children. He breathed life into the curvy, coffee-coloured horn, soft lips curled delicately and skillfully over the silky ivory mouthpiece, tongue flickering over the air slit to stutter the notes. One hand was insinuated deep inside the smooth, dark bell, coaxing mellow tones from its waxy core until the instrument vibrated with its keening moan.

The melodious strains of the Sungi horn echoed through the garden, a sound so beautiful and heartbreakingly glorious that even the cicadas paused to listen. Night-blooming jasmine flowers unfurled their fragrant petals to drink in the sensual tune. Fountains thought long dried up suddenly burst to life, overflowing with warm liquid essence. Somewhere in the palace, a female servant caught a few of the lilting notes and orgasmed on the spot.

Of course, that was right before the _rest_ of the orchestra joined in.

The asthmatic bamboo pipe flute whined in protest as it competed against the sexy Sungi, struggling to work in tandem and failing miserably. The flute's rasping whistles were misinterpreted by Momo who, thinking he'd heard another lemur challenge him to a poop-flinging contest, immediately took to the skies, screeching his earnest acceptance while dragging a mess of percussion instruments noisily behind him.

Appa hadn't even had a chance to join in before the contents of turtle-duck pond suddenly surged and crashed over the would-be minstrels.

"WILL YOU CRETINS KNOCK IT OFF? I AM TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP!" Katara's silhouette screamed from the balcony.

She spun on her heel and stomped back into the bedroom, cursing loudly.

Pulling the curtain of soaked bangs from his eyes, Zuko complacently studied the scene before him. A family of angry turtle-ducks struggled to untangle themselves from the mass of Appa's sopping wet back while Aang shook his shoes out.

"That," Zuko muttered, slopping away, "was a good try."

"Maybe she'd prefer an adventure ballad," the young Avatar suggested.

Appa lowed his agreement and broke into his own grunted rendition of "It's A Long, Long Way to Ba Seng Se."


	3. Good Graces

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**Good Graces**

* * *

"So," Azula steepled her fingers, "my brother thinks to usurp my claim to the throne by ensuring his continued line, hmm?"

"That's right, my mistress," the Dai Li agent said calmly. A little thrill rippled over her skin. Oh, how she loved these stoic, silent Earth Kingdom soldiers. They were all so _sexy._ Really, could she be blamed for taking a few along with her when she'd left Ba Seng Se?

The Dai Li agent went on. "He's been having some difficulties…um, impregnating the Fire Lady Katara, and it's been suggested he woo her until she, er, acquiesces to his demands. Last night, he tried to serenade her with no success."

She paced, tapping her lips with one long-nailed finger. "Katara's a feisty one, and moody at that. Her emotions are often dictated by her environment and the forces exerted on her. That's the nature of water, you know." She said it as though she were an austere schoolmarm and he an innocent young student taking his lessons. (Actually, it was one of her favorite little bedroom games. Haru in particular hated it.)

"Yes, my mistress."

Azula smiled languorously. "Mmm, call me that again, won't you?"

"Of course, my mistress. I am loyal only to you."

She purred and let out a long sigh. "If only that were true of my little harem…" She glanced over at the empty beds and divans in her quarters. Jet had wandered off, Aang never stayed, Sokka was probably hiding, and Haru had managed to break out of his manacles…again. Oh, well. Hunting them down gave her something to do.

"I would be honored to serve you in any way you deem fit, my mistress," the Dai Li said softly. "_Any_ way."

"Oh, my sweet little Dai Li. If only I could fill my beds with all you nameless, random hunks of men," she lamented. "Alas, I am the princess of the Fire Nation and a principal character! And as such, deserve only the most well-recognized one-offs and favorite male leads."

"Forgive me, mistress. I did not presume to insinuate myself into your good graces."

"Just stand there and look dark and mysterious for me, won't you?" she batted her lashes at him sweetly.

The princess went behind the changing screen (yes, she does, in fact, have some modesty) and donned a flowing dress of pink and gold to soften her harsh looks, then checked herself in the mirror. Okay, so she didn't look motherly, but she didn't look like the menacing bitch she really was, either. Satisfied, she told the agent, "I'm going for a walk, and then I'm going to find Haru. It shouldn't take me long to hunt him down—really, the boy makes it too easy. Continue surveillance of my brother's activities and keep me updated."

"Yes, mistress."

Azula added, "Oh, and when you report back to me next…take your shirt off."

"My life is to serve you, mistress." The Dai Li agent bowed out.


	4. Flowers for Katara

**This idea was inspired by 2wingo, who reminded me of the power of the panda lily. If you have any ideas, I'll gladly steal them and morph them into something completely unrecognizable.**

* * *

**Flowers for Katara**

* * *

"Flowers," Iroh loudly declared, "are the singular most thoughtful gift you can give a woman…especially if she is mad at you about something."

Zuko followed his uncle through the palace's massive conservatory, touring the vast array of exotic blossoms and botanical wonders cultivated from around the globe. A rainbow sea of silky-soft petals and dark, hearty succulents undulated in the carefully climate-controlled room. Scents ranging from sharp, spicy, tangy, sweet, sultry and more tickled his nose and lingered in his olfactory senses.

"Every bloom, every shrub and piece of greenery, every weed and wildflower, has its own special meaning, its own unique personality. Much in the same way as people do. What you choose to give your wife will reflect not only your personal choice, but also the way you see her, and how you wish to complement her attributes."

They strolled through the aisles, casually inspecting the inventory. Each section was marked with a sign indicating the types of plants in that area, and each plant sported an identifying tag. Families and dignitaries who had curried favor with the Fire Lord often received space within the greenhouse as a gift, and various signs indicated this, as well.

"Choose wisely, Zuko," Iroh intoned sagely. "Your crown is depending on it."

"Okaaay…" Zuko drawled a little skeptically. "So I'll just…er, take a bunch of those." He gestured at a group of vivid fiery-orange orchids.

The Dragon of the West glanced over and shrieked. "Are you joking? Do you want her to divorce you?"

The Fire Lord scowled. "What? They're…" Zuko didn't want to say _pretty,_ because that would be admitting to some decidedly unmanly tastes, and he'd received enough jibing about his sexuality from Sokka "…serviceable."

"Those are wild lava orchids! People on the outlying Fire Nation islands leave them on the graves of their families. If you give them to Katara, it'll mean you want to see her family dead!"

Zuko thought of Sokka again, but shook that shiny thought away with only the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Really, Zuko, try a little harder," Iroh huffed.

"If you know so much, why don't _you_ pick?"

"Because this is your torture—I mean, trial," he replied. "Now, choose."

Zuko heaved a sigh and studied the rows of flower pots lined up on the worktables. An ethereal glow around a tufty white flower caught his eye. "How about those?"

"Ghost carnations? You can't be serious." Iroh furrowed a brow. "They're given to the terminally ill—the strong scent drives their souls away from the mortal realm and into the Spirit Realm. Absolutely not."

His mouth thinned. "Fine." The gold glint that drew his attention toward the far table made him tug his uncle's sleeve. "What about those yellow ones?"

"Golden-leaf daffodils," Iroh remarked, then slowly shook his head in pity. "No. They bring bad luck. Pick another."

Zuko scooped up the nearest flower pot. "These?"

"Puce-striped posies? They're used for treating gas. Katara will think you have a problem with fart—"

"Okay, I get it." Zuko interrupted tetchily. After all, lovely, perfect Katara _never, ever_ farted. Annoyed now, he randomly pointed. "How about those?"

"Indigo heart ivy? Well, it's nice as foliage, but it's poisonous, and it's a parasite."

…And on and on they went, around and around the flowerbeds. Zuko was unable to exhaust his uncle's knowledge about the morbid properties of each specimen he picked.

"Blue lilies? Choking hazard."

"Dragon-scale chrysanthemums? They signify ever-lasting itchiness."

"Silver-backed morning glories give you eye strain."

"Brown-spotted toad slippers? Zuko, those are just plain ugly."

"Enough!" The Fire Lord blasted, thoroughly fed up. "What is this gardener thinking? Why on earth do we have all these…these depressing plants in our conservatory?"

Iroh rolled his eyes at the heavens in search of an answer.

And the heavens actually came through this time.

"I think I just figured that out."

Zuko looked up. Above the section they stood in was a sign in dour black script.

_Mai's garden. Enter at your own risk._

"Let's get the hell out of here," Zuko uttered in disgust. "I'll get Katara a puppy instead."


	5. Exploration and Discovery

* * *

**Exploration and Discovery**

* * *

Afternoon strolls through the palace breezeways had become routine for the Fire Lord, and they were especially helpful since encountering this dilemma of producing progeny. It was a habit he'd picked up from Iroh—taking strolls, not producing progeny. 

Zuko's walks frequently took him to random parts of the palace, and he sometimes ended up in rooms he'd never visited before—such was the grandeur and scope of the Fire Nation palace.

It was on one such walk that he happened upon the hougong—the section of the royal grounds where his father had kept his harem. Zuko had never visited the women his father had used; knowing Ozai's cruel tastes, he'd instead offered the concubines the freedom to leave with a large stipend, feeling he owed them at least that much in return for the services rendered to his terrible father.

But many of the women had chosen to stay. Of course, who wouldn't, under their circumstances? They were pampered and kept, their every need taken care of while they lived out the rest of their lives in pleasure. Moreover, their previous master was no longer around to terrorize them, and their new Fire Lord, was, despite his scar, quite easy on the eyes, and rumored to be a gentle and generous lover.

Exactly the kind of man the concubines liked to break in.

Of course, because he had never visited, Zuko paused at the grand double-doored entrance with its gilded gate, flanked on either side by eunuch guards, wondering what the opulent-looking suite housed. If the guards were startled to see him, they did nothing to indicate it, and instead bowed smartly and let him pass.

Curiouser and curiouser, Zuko ambled in. His breath rushed out as he marveled at the beauty of the enormous apartment. Plush carpets and silken draperies dripped from every surface, puddling on the floor to create a soft and silky playground of sensation for bare, tired feet. Strewn about were velvet cushions, gilded tables piled with fresh fruit and wine, baubles and toys and fancies one could only dream up in the haziest of drunken stupors.

And amidst it all…sat Jet.

Zuko's marvel turned quickly to dismay.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of the scruffy rogue.

Jet, languishing upon a pile of cushion, wearing little more than a pair of loose linen drawstring pants and a smile, peered up at the Fire Lord, arching a high, expressive eyebrow.

"Ohhhh, so _that's_ why she's not taking you to bed." Jet clucked his tongue. "And here I thought you were living like a monk…though I think that might be an insult to Aang."

"What are you talking about? And will you please put a shirt on?" Zuko shielded his eyes against the Freedom Fighter's nipples. He did NOT need to see those.

"Prude." Jet draped a silk scarf over his shoulders, hiding the offending protrusions. "I heard all about your lady troubles. I feel fer ya." He pounded a fist against his heart.

Zuko wasn't sure he liked the idea of Jet _feeling_ him at all.

"Can't just hog-monkey-tie the girl to a tree, huh?" Jet said.

"Tried that already," Zuko muttered.

"And here I thought she was into that." Jet stood. "Well, seeing as I'm a friend—"

"You're _not_ my friend."

"—and I respect you as an ally to the Avatar, I'm going to give you some guy to guy advice—" he draped one gangly arm around his shoulders "—coming from someone who knows a little bit about Waterbenders, if you get my meaning."

_Wink, wink._

"I really wish I didn't." Zuko's mouth and eyes flattened.

Jet paid him no heed as he expounded grandly, "See, you might think she's like water, but Katara…she's like fine wine. She only gets better with time and age. You have to savor her unique bouquet, and you can't greedily gulp her down. At the same time, you can't just store her away in the cellar, never to be tasted; and you can't open her, have a sip and leave her lying out, otherwise she becomes vinegar. And she needs to be sampled with other things, like cheese and grapes and little pieces of fresh-baked bread slathered with butter…" He paused, perplexity spreading over his sharp features. "I'm sorry, what was I talking about?"

"Jet, why are you hanging out here? You have your own damn room, next to Azula's no less." _In _Azula's, more like.

"I needed a change of scenery," he said with a shrug. Zuko thought he saw a slight shudder go through the young man's shoulders, but he'd probably imagined it. "And…well, you understand what I mean when I say, a man can't live on jelly candy alone."

"I don't eat jelly candy."

"No. I don't suppose you do." Jet's expression was unreadable. "See, the key, Your Majesty, is variety. It's the spice of life. It can't always be the same dish every day for dinner. You need to mix it up a little, learn to crave individual meals…" Once again he paused, shook his head, and then reached for an apple from a nearby fruit bowl. "I think I must be getting hungry."

Jet's lips curled over the bright red fruit as he bit into it, juice spilling from the corners of his mouth. "You know," he said, chewing thoughtfully, "maybe you should send Katara here for some instruction. The concubines have been teaching Fire Ladies the art of seduction since before your grandfather's time…"

Zuko bristled. "Concubines?" So _that's_ what that funny smell was. Now he had a pretty good...not, make that a pretty _bad_ idea of where he was. No, Katara would not be pleased at all that he'd been anywhere near this place.

Jet said, "Oh, yeah. They've been passing down secrets to the women in the royal line since…"

"Could you please not talk about my family and…_that?_" The Fire Lord interrupted.

But Jet went on, "Why, I do believe the head mistress here mentioned something about your mother, Ursa…"

"I'm going to go now." Zuko edged out of the room, even as Jet continued talking.

"…was an adept student, unafraid of trying anything. Even Azula…"

"I'm not listening." The Fire Lord shut out all his senses, but couldn't help hearing:

"…with a riding crop and a bunch of lychee nuts. Though what she intended to do with the Xirxiu tongue venom, I can't begin to imagine. Well, I can, but…"

"LALALALALALA…" Zuko covered his ears, spun about and hastened back out the way he came in.

"But I haven't even told you on how to get Katara pregnant!" Jet shouted after him. He huffed. "Geez. Could you be any more ungrateful? And here I was all ready to give the eels and the flowers lecture."


	6. Intelligence

* * *

**Intelligence**

* * *

Zuko paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath. He really didn't have a choice. Who else knew his wife better? 

"Sokka?"

The Water Tribesman looked up from the book he was studying. It seemed he was always in the palace library these days…probably because it was the one place Azula, Ty Lee, and the bevy of other eligible girls seeking a husband (or arm candy) refused to seek him in.

Not that they hated books or were adverse to education or any other reason so utterly inane. Sokka just happened to be a master at tucking himself away behind the tall stacks, building book forts and driving the royal librarians to distraction.

"Whaddup?" he asked distractedly, still reading his book.

"Hey. So…um," The Fire Lord did not know how he was going to talk about Katara's sex life with her brother.

Not her sex life _with_ her brother. Zuko carefully reworded that in his already discombobulated head.

"What are you reading?" he asked, stalling for time.

"This? Oh, it…uh…" Sokka closed the book. "Nothing important."

But the Firebender caught a glimpse of the title on the cover. "You're reading about Fire Nation military campaigns? Why?"

"Oh, well, you know…I have an interest in…uh…history…and stuff…"

Zuko scrutinized the high color rushing into his brother-in-law's cheeks. "You're gathering intelligence, aren't you?"

Sokka's color deepened.

"Why on earth…I mean, the war's over! We made sure it was. Do you really think you need to study battlefield plans and war tactics? You think we're going to have another war within our lifetimes?"

"Hey, you never know," Sokka said defensively. "And the Spirit Library beneath the desert wasn't exactly well stocked with information about the Fire Nation." He huffed, accusation sharp in his eyes. He added, "I just need to feel prepared in case…" His sentence trailed off.

Zuko let the matter go. Sokka was only being Sokka, after all: cautious, pessimistic and ultra-paranoid.

"So what did you come in here to talk to me about?"

"Oh." The reason for the Fire Lord's visit rushed back to the embarrassing forefront of his mind. "See, I was wondering…about Katara…"

"We _all_ wonder about Katara sometimes," Sokka bemoaned.

"Yeah, well, the thing is…" he cleared his throat "…she's been…uh…kinda cold lately."

The scholarly warrior looked unimpressed. "She's a Waterbender. Get used to it."

"I mean, she's been frigid. Standoffish. Not receptive."

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh…?"

"Shewonthavesexwithme," Zuko blurted on a rush of breath, and for a moment, he didn't think Sokka had heard or understood him.

He had.

Katara's older brother eased slowly back into his chair, crossed one ankle over his knee, and folded his arms over his chest. Zuko realized just how much the young man had grown in his time here—he was broad and angular, his bulging muscles actually pose-worthy now. Yes, this was a man who, despite having no bending abilities, could kick Zuko's lily-white ass up and down the palace halls if need be.

Sokka's face was unreadable, his normally keen eyes dulled to impassivity. "Sex." He stated it flatly. "You came here to talk to me—the brother of your wife, my little sister—about sex?"

"You know her best! I didn't want to ask, but we have to start having babies and lots of them before Azula starts producing her own brood of hellions and showing me up and making me lose face and the crown and—"

Sokka held up a hand to cut off Zuko's panicked tirade. "Stop. Right there."

Even though he looked relaxed and settled, the Firebender knew the young warrior could be on his feet and tearing him a new one in the blink of an eye. He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable blow.

A painfully long pause was followed by Sokka asking, "It's always about sex with you, isn't it?"

"What? No. Absolutely not. I love Katara."

"Do you? Really?" The Water Tribe man sent him a hard look. He reminded Zuko instantly of the old headmaster at the Firebending Academy. "Then why is this such a big deal to you?"

"I told you. Azula is currently second in line for the throne. Without an heir, the title of Fire Lord will fall to her if something were to happen to me. And with her living in the palace, something could _definitely_ happen to me. Plus, if she has children before I do…"

"It'll make you look impotent. Yeah, I get that." Sokka scowled. "So I say again, it's always about sex with you, isn't it?"

"It's not about the sex!" Zuko repeated. "Have you been listening to me? This is a crisis of…of national security!"

Okay, so maybe it wasn't, but it sounded more important that way.

But Katara's brother simply pinched his lips together and stared him down.

Zuko frowned. "You're not going to help me with this, are you?"

"You're the only one who can help you. And this is something you need to be talking to your wife about, not me."

"But she hates me right now," Zuko lamented.

"And you're wondering why?"

He balked. "I don't see what I've done wrong."

"That," Sokka said, turning back to his book, "is more than half of your problem. Now go away."

At a loss, Zuko left the library. Obviously Sokka had been hanging out with his uncle too much. Just like all those times Iroh had tried to impart wisdom to his nephew, he got the sense Sokka was saying more than he was actually saying; but what, Zuko could not decipher.

Damn wise people and their unhelpful knowledge. Why didn't they ever just come out and say what they meant? Why did they insist on cloaking all their so-called helpful knowledge in riddles and roundabout proverbs?

Well, obviously there would be no help from Katara's brother. The Fire Lord decided he'd have to start getting advice from more…unorthodox sources.


	7. Hello, Agni? It's Me, Zuko

**As always, thanks to everyone for your lovely reviews. I know I'm not updating as often as you all hoped, but I get a lot of ideas off people's comments, and I usually write ahead and then post. I'm taking it a little easier this time, as I'm still working on lots of original fiction and a number of other things. So forgive me!**

* * *

**Hello, Agni? It's Me, Zuko**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Aang asked, worry creasing his brow. "The spirits aren't…uh…particularly good at marriage counseling."

Zuko scowled…which is to say his face was status quo. "Agni is the father of the Fire Nation, husband to the Great Phoenix, and exalted protectorate of the Fire Nation. The royal family is descended from his line. Surely he'd have some advice to dispense about my current predicament."

The Avatar sucked in his lower lip and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…I guess when you put it that way…"

"There are legends," Zuko continued, "about how Agni wooed the Great Phoenix from her bower and captured her as his wife. The Phoenix is the second most powerful deity in Fire Nation lore, rivaled only by Agni himself, and only because she allows him to dominate." He fixed Aang a look. "_That_ is what I want from Katara."

"Subservience? Submission?"

"Deference," the Fire Lord clarified. "I know she and I are equals in the bending arena, her wits as sharp as mine—"

"Or sharper," Aang muttered under his breath.

"—She is my superior in many aspects, but in this matter, in the matter of family…" Zuko gestured emptily and crossed his arms over his chest, as if it were evident what he was getting at.

Aang slowly shook his head. "All right. I'll go into the Spirit World to consult him, but don't say I didn't warn you. You might not like the solution to your problem…if Agni says anything at all."

Zuko nodded his understanding.

The Avatar sat in the Fire Lord's meditation room before a large gilt statue of a Dragon, the Fire Nation's patron animal and one of Agni's many incarnations. The hypnotic gold flicker of the candles on the altar soon had Aang in a trance, and when his eyes flashed lightning blue, Zuko knew his friend had reached the Avatar state.

He'd only seen him like this a few of times before, but he'd never been this close to Aang while he traversed the Spirit Realm. (Well, there was that whole North Pole incident, but his eyes had been closed then, and Zuko had been a little too busy worrying about his survival.) He looked into those blank, brilliant eyes and, waving one hand in front of his face, wondered if his friend's ethereal luminescence was bright enough to project a shadow puppet show onto the far wall.

The room suddenly grew unbearably hot, as if a firestorm had swept through the palace. Zuko tensed. The air shimmered with heat waves, and a hot wind whipped around the Avatar's body.

Aang cocked his head at Zuko, a scowl creasing his boyish features.

"_Fire Lord Zukoooo,"_ the young monk intoned in a deep, growling voice._"Why have you summoned me to the mortal realm?"_

Zuko immediately knew he was in the presence of Agni, and prostrated himself before him.

"I am your most humble servant, Agni," he said. "I have need of your guidance and vast wisdom."

"_Then you should be talking to your uncle Iroh," _the spirit god said.

He began to explain, "The matter regards my wife—"

"_Ah. Yes. The Southern Waterbender."_ Agni's arrogant tone reminded Zuko immediately of his father's sneering demeanor. _"Good lay then?"_

"She's—" Zuko did a double take. "Wait, what?"

"_Good lay. Waterbenders are fluid and dynamic and supernaturally flexible, you know."_ Agni chuckled, a deep, low, languid sound that thrummed through his chest. _"I've been known to have a tryst here and there in the mortal realm, you know, and I like the Southern Water women the best. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Katara were very, very distantly related to you."_

Zuko was at a loss for words. Mostly because he was trying desperately to hold back the vomit surging upwards.

"_Don't tell my wife, though," _Agni went on, rolling Aang's eyes. _"That harpy never lets me have my fun. She can certainly get her feathers in a ruffle, and for a firebird, that usually means the end of the world. Speaking of which,"_ Agni cast his glowing glance about,_"do you have anything to drink? I'm parched."_

Offerings. Of course. Zuko proffered a goblet of the cheap brandy used in all the shrines to the spirits. Agni accepted it, sipped, then made a face.

"_Grody,"_ he said disdainfully, and poured the rest out on the floor.

"Oh, great Agni," Zuko began again, his faith a little shaken, "I seek your wisdom with regards to my royal line. My wife shuns me and refuses my company. She will not lie with me."

"_Have you asked her why?"_ Agni reclined against a couch as if they were simply discussing the latest airball match at the local tavern.

Zuko replied "No" as if it were obvious. Of course he hadn't. In non-explanation, he added, "She's my wife."

"_And as such, you must ask her about everything. You cannot expect her to simply tell you, and she will resent you for not asking. This applies to all of your interactions with her. You must ask her: How was your day? What did you buy at the market? A pointless exercise, perhaps, but one you must go through regularly."_

"But what does that have to do with—?"

Agni cut him off, gesturing grandly._ "It is the nature of woman to be chased, as it is the nature of man to hunt. The moon and the sun dance through the sky round and round in the dizzying whirl that is life. Push and pull, Tui and La, they circle each other as yin and yang…"_

And on and on the spirit god went, spewing as many analogies as he could to demonstrate Zuko's dichotomous relationship with Katara.

It was quite exhausting.

"But how am I supposed to get her to _present?_" Zuko interrupted snappishly.

Agni looked taken aback. His mouth twisted disdainfully. _"It's always about sex with you, isn't it?"_

"It's not about the sex!" Zuko exclaimed, and would have stomped a royal foot if he weren't still kow-towing on the floor. "Why do people keep saying that?"

"_My son," _Agni said with a benevolent smile, _"you are the Fire Lord, a man who has seen much more of the world than some of your predecessors, and even some of the ruling heads of state. Surely romancing a woman was part of your education?"_

"I already know about the eels and flowers."

Agni breathed deeply, as if mustering his patience. _"I must retire,"_ he announced brusquely. _"Think well on what I have said."_

And with that, the heat in the room dissipated, and Aang slumped over, the Fire god's hold over him released.

"Did you learn anything?" the monk asked Zuko once he'd recovered.

"Yeah." He glared at the empty offering cup. "I need to start getting better brandy if I want any useful advice."


	8. Interesting Times

* * *

**Interesting Times**

* * *

"Sister, dear!" Azula rapped softly at the door to Katara's suite, smoothing her dress down. Though the Fire Lord and Lady normally slept together, the master Waterbender had her own boudoir for those less compatible nights of which there had been many recently. According to the servants, the Fire Lady had been cloistering herself here often, coming out only to practice her bending in the royal arena, or to take a brisk walk. 

The princess knocked again when she didn't get an immediate response. "Katara? It's Princess Azula." She emphasized her honorific as if in reminder.

From behind the door came a muffled "Go. Away."

The Firebender pursed her lips. No one even _dared_ refuse her!

Well, except for Aang. And Jet. And Sokka. And Haru, though she'd managed to convince the Earthbender to accede to her wishes readily time and again.

She called through the door, "Oh, come now, you can't hole up in there forever." She reconsidered. "Well, you can, but I don't recommend it. After a while, without proper airing, the rooms get awfully stuffy and they start to smell like feet. You don't want your apartments to smell like feet, do you?"

She heard the shuffle of soft-soled slippers across the marble floors. The door was abruptly yanked open.

Azula blinked. The Waterbender had definitely seen better days: Her waist-length hair was wild and stuck out at odd angles. Her skin, normally an even shade of rich mocha, was ruddy and blotchy. The shapeless, dull-gray robe she wore was so hideous, Azula didn't think even the beggars at the market would deign to wear it.

"What do you want?" Katara growled, a fierce frown straining her pale, cracked lips, her bloodshot gimlet eyes boring into her sister-in-law.

"I wanted some company on my shopping trip," Azula replied as casually as she could without betraying her shock, inspecting her fingernails to keep her eyes averted from the sight before her. "I was thinking of doing a little bargain hunting before I went Haru hunting." She peered past Katara's shoulder, as if the Earthbender might be hiding in her apartments. "You haven't seen him around, have you?"

In answer to both her queries, Katara muttered, "Ask Ty Lee," and started to close the door.

Azula put her palm firmly against the door. "Now, now, Miss Moody Pants. I'm extending a generous offer. It's not every day the princess of the Fire Nation comes a-knocking."

"I'm not in the mood," the Waterbender bit out. Azula could see she'd adopted her husband's mercurial manner. If Katara had been born a Firebender…well, the palace would probably be a charred, smoking crater by now. But that was neither here nor there.

"If not shopping, perhaps we could go for a royal hair combing?" Azula suggested. "You need to be pampered, dear. You hardly make use of any of the palace facilities, I can see." She gave her a disapproving once-over.

"Not interested." Katara tried unsuccessfully to close the door on her sister-in-law once more.

"Oh, but you must be," the princess insisted as she shoved her way into the suite. Katara drew back, arctic defiance blazing in her eyes. Pivoting around, Azula planted her fists on her hips. "It's not like we aren't friends. I was your maid of honor, wasn't I?" She fluttered her lashes prettily.

Katara grumbled something unintelligible, though the words "mistake" and "what the hell was I thinking" did figure prominently among the ones the princess could hear.

But as usual, Azula ignored the Waterbender. "As your beloved sister-in-law, it is my duty—no, my _pleasure_—to draw you out of your dismal little shell and take you out for some girl time."

The Waterbender's wintry eyes narrowed. "What's your scheme, Zula?"

She raised her hands up defensively. "No scheme. Only…" Her voice softened. "Well, I do worry about you. The pressure of producing a child for Zuko, someone strong enough to take over the throne…" She tsked, shaking her head a little. "I'm just as eager to become an aunt as my parents are to become grandparents. If they were here, I mean." She tilted her head to one side. "But I am concerned for your well-being, too."

She peered at Katara then, a worm of doubt niggling in her mind, and asked, "You're not, are you? Pregnant, I mean." It would, after all, explain a lot.

"_No!"_ Katara blasted, fists clenched at her sides. "What are you saying? Are you saying I look fat? That I'm an unattractive, moody, whale of a wife to your brother? Huh?"

"Not at all, not at all." Azula was only mildly surprise by this revelation. She'd heard bets going around that Fire Lady Katara was already pregnant, though knowing Zuko's MO, she somehow doubted that. If his lovemaking skills were anything like his Firebending skills…well, his hit/miss record on the latter wasn't stellar, to put it bluntly.

And anyhow, what was the fun in betting on the sure win?

Katara wasn't finished her tirade, stomping across the room as she huffed, "Geez, what is it about people that, as soon as I act a little grumpy, they think it's hormones, or PMS or that I'm _pregnant!"_ She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I have a spirit-given right to a bad day now and again!"

Of course, those bad days had become weeks and months...but Azula was not about to point this out.

"Look," Azula said, laying her palm against Katara's shoulder, "I know I'm the last person anyone would go to for comfort. But if something's wrong, I want you to know I'm here for you." She forced what she hoped was a genuine look of concern for her brother's wife onto her flawless porcelain features, letting her brow soften until she thought she might look a little less like Mai and a little more like Ty Lee.

Katara tracked her with unease, doubt flickering over her face. "Right. Sure."

"You know what I'd bet you'd enjoy?" Azula exclaimed suddenly. "Target practice. That always makes me feel better, and Sokka's a laugh and a half to watch when he tumbles through the course, trying to dodge my fireballs." A wicked gleam filled her gold eyes. "And then a nice hot stone massage. The Dai Li agents are multi-talented, you know. Nice, strong hands. Not as nice as Haru's, but they can do wonders to the body—"

Lips twitching, Katara said, "I think I'll pass. But thanks. Really." And when she graced her with a teeny-weeny smile, Azula knew she'd cracked her sister-in-law's shell.

Her mouth curled at the corners. "If you're bent on hermiting yourself here, I won't stop you. I just wanted to let you know that I _care._"

In the distance, she thought she heard someone bust a gut laughing. But Katara looked like she was actually buying it.

The princess laid it on even thicker. "I'll come calling later. In the meantime, would you like me to have dinner sent up to your rooms? I can get chef to make some ginseng soup and vinegar cow-pig feet. You like that stuff, don't you?"

Katara nodded slowly.

Azula gave a gracious bob of her head. "You go do whatever it is you're doing, then. We'll talk when you're ready."

She left the Fire Lady's apartments, a strange sense of satisfaction sweeping through her. But she attributed that warm, fuzzy feeling to her nefarious nature. After all, there was nothing quite as satisfying as a well-executed double-cross, she thought smugly as she plotted the next step in her twisted course.

She'd inveigle her way into Katara's confidence and get to the bottom of Zuko's performance issues. Citing a danger to the crown, she'd use that as leverage to make him officially declare Azula the next in line for the throne. As it was, Uncle would act as regent if anything ever befell her brother, and the old man was so well-preserved, the princess didn't think he'd _ever_ die. From there, it was a simple matter of …

She burst out laughing all of a sudden. Unfathomably, she couldn't make herself stop, falling back against the wall when cackling sobs wracked her whole body. When her fit finally subsided, the princess wiped the tears from her eyes with as much royal dignity as she could muster and righted herself.

Sighing and still giggling, she proceeded back down the hallway. Heck, why was she even pretending she had a greater plan? Since the war had ended, palace life had become _so_ dull.

No, Azula much preferred to live in interesting times.

She'd do this just because she enjoyed messing with everyone.


	9. Rock Bottom

* * *

**Rock Bottom**

* * *

General Iroh was considered by all to be a stalwart and fairly imperturbable man. He owed much of his composure to not only the soothing effects of his vast collection of tea, but also to his daily relaxation regiment, which included a leisurely stroll with the singular purpose of stopping to smell the roses, in quite the literal sense.

"Good for the lungs, good for the heart, good for the body to get a fresh start," he'd quip to anyone who'd listen.

And since pretty much everyone within a mile of the palace had heard him spout this particular rhyme about a hundred times, _no one_ listened.

It was during these refreshing walks that he would contemplate daily governance, mind-bending riddles, his nephew's latest emotional issues, and new proverbs and metaphors that would help same nephew in his twisting life journey. Today, he was devoting his substantive mental capacity to pondering the root of Zuko's confounding marital problems. And for that, he required an extra measure of peace.

The gardens always provided the ideal backdrop for such deep thoughts and rigorous relaxation. The great Dragon of the West would contemplate the utter quietude of each plant, and aspire to their serenity. Sometimes, he'd even mimic them by divesting himself of all his clothing and lying on the hot slate cobblestones like a lazy desert salamander, basking in the glory of the sun's rays.

Perfect inner harmony was something he strove for in these lush surroundings. So what if a few guards went blind encountering him in his state of nirvana?

But today was a day for thinking, not imitating the flowers. With all his clothes on, he mulled over Zuko and his wife, punctuating each debating point in his head with a sniff of his favorite tea rose bush, filling his senses with the blooms' gentling aroma.

And then the flowers sniffed back.

"BWAH!" Iroh leapt back when the bush sneezed. Collecting himself, he peered closer at the green eyes blinking up at him. "Haru?"

"Shh-hhh!" The Earthbender crouched lower in the hidey-hole he'd dug among the bilious foliage. "Please, don't say anything!"

"What are you—?"

At just that moment, the old man heard his niece's shrill cry.

"Uncle! Have you seen Haru? It's almost tea time and I'm getting tired of looking for him." Azula appeared at the far end of the path. She crossed arms over her chest and pouted.

Moving his bulk in front of the bush, the old general smiled genially and called back, "Oh, no, dear, not at all. I haven't seen him since…oh, well, since that day you had him fitted for those special space metal cuffs."

"Clever boy got out of them," Azula remarked with a little pride, "and he wonders why I want to keep him. I _so_ love a brain to match a man's brawn."

Iroh heard a faint whimper from beneath the bush.

"Ah, well. If you spot him…well, don't detain him, that'll just ruin my fun. But mention I'm looking for him. That'll put the whip at his heels before I apply it to his nice, firm Earthbending bottom!" She cackled, flicking a tear away.

"By the way," she added, "I had the servants brew some of that special lemur-picked tea you like so much. I also asked them to prepare some red bean buns. I hope you'll join me in my parlor later so we can enjoy them together."

_Said the spider-snake to the mongoose-fly._ Iroh notched his chin up, suspicion seeping into every pore of his body.

With the graciousness only the great Dragon of the West could muster for the fire princess, he replied, "That's very kind of you, my niece. I will join you when I am done in the garden."

Azula's lips spread into a feline look of satisfaction. "Lovely. I'll see you later." She glided away, reminding Iroh of a scorpion-bee in flight.

Something was up. He made a note to be even more cautious around her…and to bring his own tea and snacks when he went to call.

When her footsteps trailed off, Haru burst from the ground in a shower of pebbles.

"You have to help me escape!" the fugitive cried, ragged desperation making his voice harsh and high.

Iroh gave him the once-over. "Why's that? I thought you two were…" he searched for a word "_…intimate._ Surely she hasn't been mistreating you…?"

Haru's brow softened, but his eyes remained troubled. "I loved her once, I really did. But she's…she's…" He searched for a word.

"Insatiable?" Iroh suggested.

"Sadistic! Bloodthirsty! Stark-raving _mad!_" He yanked his collar down to display the bite marks, scratches, burns and hickeys ringing his neck.

"Ah, young love."

"Please, I'm begging you. My parents don't even know where I am. I don't even know how long I've been away from them," Haru sobbed.

"Judging by your facial hair…I'd say about a year."

"Azula made me keep it," he lamented, tugging at his unfashionably long moustache. "She thought it was 'sexyfine'. That's not even a word!" he blubbered.

Iroh smothered his laughter. "Well, Haru, I'm not inclined to thwart my niece's whims or appetites." He paused. "But perhaps we can make a deal."

"A deal?" Hope brightened the Earthbender's sad, sage-green eyes.

"My nephew, Zuko, is having some marital issues. You were once one of Katara's suitors, were you not?"

"I…I don't generally discuss… That is, she's very nice, but… Yes," he amended quickly at the disinterested look stealing over the old man's face. "Yes, I would have made a _fantastic_ lover. I could have, er, rocked her world, as it were. Azula says so all the time." Haru's upturned mouth collapsed into a despondent frown.

"Well, then, perhaps you are best suited to advise the Fire Lord as to how to win back his wife's interest. In exchange, I can hide you from my niece until she tires of her little game…for today."

"But…I'm looking for an escape! I need to get out of the Fire Nation! Away from _her!_" Haru clutched the general's billowing sleeve with white-knuckled fingers that had been…._ugh,_ gods know where.

"I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do." Iroh detached himself from the young Earthbender and straightened his robe. "For the good of the Fire Nation, and my nephew and his family, a short respite from Azula's attentions is all I can offer. Now, do we have a deal?"

Haru chewed on his baby-smooth lower lip then nodded with a sigh. "Okay. Deal."

Iroh smiled in triumph and started to lead the way to the Fire Lord's meeting chamber.

He decided not to mention that the fairly talented Earthbender was probably capable of escaping the Fire Nation whenever he pleased—a tunnel was not a difficult thing to dig beneath the palace walls, especially for one gifted with his abilities. Keeping that in mind, Haru could have quit the Fire Nation at any time, but either he was too stupid to figure it out, or he wasn't really trying.

Iroh suspected the latter. Among the conundrums he'd pondered among the roses, this was the easiest to puzzle out. Considering the provincial tedium awaiting him at his aging parents' home, this ongoing cat-and-mouse game the princess's concubine played likely added much-needed spice to the young man's otherwise blasé life.

So who was he to interfere in the adventures of one Earth Kingdom boy?


	10. Attention Span

**By the way, kudos to all of you who picked up on my tip of the hat to ATLA: Abridged's genius creator, GanXingba, without whom our lives would be that much sadder. Thank you, GanXingba, for your addition of "sexyfine" to the Avatar lexicon. **

* * *

**Attention Span**

* * *

"_Be sensitive?"_ Zuko snorted. "I'm plenty sensitive! Who says I'm not sensitive?"

Haru raised his hands to ward off the Firebender's temper. "I'm not saying you_aren't._ Only…" he hedged "…try to sympathize with your wife. She's under a lot of pressure, too, you know. And Katara, being a Waterbender and all…well, water under pressure tends to…uh…"

"Boil? Become steam? Explode?"

"Get…really…cranky," Haru concluded lamely.

What was it with Azula's concubines that they couldn't string together a simple metaphor if their lives depended on it? Were they butterfly-bird brained? Did they have their senses knocked out by some…large…creature…that hit people…?

Zuko sneered, adding just a little more contempt to the snarl under his breath for his sister's favorite pampered pet. He didn't know why his uncle thought this simpering Earthbender could give him any useful advice…especially with that stupid wispy facial hair clinging to his soft upper lip like a malformed kitty-caterpillar.

"I don't see how you could possibly know anything about the way my wife—or any normal functioning woman—behaves," he voiced his skepticism. "You aren't exactly a currency in great circulation."

Hah, see? Metaphor.

"Just because I'm not Jet or Sokka, doesn't mean I don't know how to treat a lady," Haru protested. With a sniff he added, "Ty Lee accepted my attentions—"

"Ty Lee would accept the attention of a sabretoothed moose-lion in heat."

"—and so did your sister—"

Zuko arched his one expressive eyebrow. "And how's that working for you?"

Haru frowned, shoulders shrugging, hands gesturing emptily. "Women…just need to be handled _gently,_ is all I'm saying."

"Unless they like it rough…like my sister," Zuko muttered.

Haru stared openmouthed at the Fire Lord a long moment.

Zuko winced. "Forget I said that last thing." He rubbed his brow in utter disgust.

"With Azula, it's different," the Earthbending captive explained. "She's not like other women. She's…she goes for the thrill before the kill."

"You mean she likes to _play _with her food."

Haru sighed his acknowledgment, and went on. "Women often do know what they want, and will actively pursue it. But when they don't know, and only have an inkling, they look to their family and friends and loved ones to confirm their choice or help make a decision for them. An example," Haru expounded, "is Master Toph Bei Fong. She is very much straightforward and to the point. She doesn't dilly-dally around. She knows what she wants and takes it. But when she doesn't know, Azula gets her to—"

Realization struck Zuko between the eyes like a Yuu-Yuan's arrow, or one of his uncle's well-worded similes. The Fire Lord leapt to his feet. "That's it! Why didn't I think of it before?"

"But…I didn't even get to the part about the chains and…" Haru swallowed dryly "…Metalbending." He was rubbing his wrists absently with slender, trembling fingers.

"My problem was I was asking other dumb men for advice. What I need is advice from another woman!"

"Does…does this mean I can go and hide now?" Haru whimpered, glancing around fearfully. His expression was hunted. "It's getting dark. When it's night, Azula likes to…" He trailed off, visibly shaking.

Zuko ignored him. "Steward! Send a summons to Master Toph Bei Fong immediately! I need to speak with her as soon as possible."

And to make sure the smarmy little blind chit didn't "accidentally" get lost because she "couldn't read a map" (what an excuse!), he added, "Tell her it's a matter of national security!"


	11. Gossip Rag

* * *

**Gossip Rag**

* * *

Toph appeared before the Fire Lord five minutes after Haru left. 

The young master Earthbender lived several weeks' travel away from the Fire Nation, so it was no wonder Zuko was so surprised to see her. He blinked down at the girl and said, "That was…shockingly fast."

"That's what _she_ said," Toph quipped, dusting herself off. _"Zing!"_

She'd arrived by Earthbending hummocks—"Like deadly geological roller-skating!" as Sokka would say since Toph always left massive damage to the otherwise pristine landscape in her wake—only a few short minutes before Zuko had requested her presence. The steward was quite impressed with himself at having served his master so efficiently.

"I came on my own," Toph explained. "Figured I missed your wedding ceremony, I'm sure as heck not going to miss the peace summit."

"The summit's not for another week."

"Well, it's not as if you can't afford to put me up for a few days," Toph sniffed, tossing her head haughtily. But her pompous air morphed into a mischievous grin. "Though, judging by the rumors, I might just get a room at an inn down in the city. I don't want to interfere in your little domestic disputes."

Zuko did a double take. "What rumours?"

"About you and Katara being unable to conceive?" Her lip curled. "Who hasn't heard? The Earth Kingdom does love gossip, especially when it's about the Fire Nation royal couple—or Zutara, as they're calling you."

"Zu-tar-a?" He tested the distasteful word, and furrowed his brow. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. It sounds like some kind of skin rash. Who calls us that?"

"Everyone. But I think _Fadmon Weekly_ was the first to coin the phrase."

The Fire Lord stared blankly at the Earthbender…who stared blankly back (but only because she really didn't have any other choice).

"Oh, come on. _Fadmon?_ It's the most popular leaflet in circulation right now. A cabbage merchant started it with some crazy guy from Kyoshi Island. Thousands of people read it. Here, have a look."

From the inside of her overrobe, she pulled a well-worn sheet of paper folded into a fat square and shook it out. It was a simple piece of broadsheet, printed on both sides and folded along the centre like a newsletter.

Deciding not to ask why Toph was carrying a piece of literature she couldn't read around, Zuko took the leaflet from her. His eyes bulged at the headlines splashed across the pages.

_** Hot Water: Zuzu's in Deep!**  
Sources say the Fire Lord's having trouble getting it up, and the Fire Lady Katara's not pleased. The royal couple has yet to produce an heir…_

Piqued, he skimmed through the rest of the rag furiously.

_** Hard and Fast: Inside Princess Azula's World of Sex, Lies, and Perfection**  
She may be sitting pretty, but the merciless maid of mayhem Azula is said to be a softie in the bedroom…_

_**Madame Wu's horoscopes!**__ Fluffy bunny clouds foreshadow impending doom…_

_**I married my bear! The former Earth King's dirty little secret…**_

_**Blue Spirit sightings…**_

_**Avatar Aang's face shows up on deep fried festival food!**_

"This is pure drivel!" Zuko growled, shoving the sheet back into Toph's outstretched hand. "Who would believe this…this _garbage?_"

"It's not for believing, it's for entertainment." Toph neatly folded the beloved _Fadmon_ back into a square. "And literacy is very important, you know. As a world leader, you should be celebrating the fact that people are reading anything at all."

He snatched the leaflet out of her hand once more and shook it out noisily. "But this is a complete fabrication. I should have the editors arrested and whipped for these filthy lies!"

"So, you're not…? Well, you know." To demonstrate, she stuck one finger up in the air and then let her wrist slacken so the digit dangled flaccidly.

"Oh, no, wait…it's more like this…." She switched her fingers from her index to her pinky and repeated the motion.

The lines on Zuko's brow deepened, as did his angry color. "I changed my mind. I'll have the editors arrested, whipped, then boiled in oil and fed to the war orphans!" he fumed.

Toph waved a hand in dismissal, laughing. "Look, it's just a gossip paper. No one takes this stuff seriously. And it keeps people interested in something other than scratching out their meager little plebian existence." Her lips quirked and she set her hands on her hips. "People are still cleaning up after the war, you know. They might look happy on the outside from all the way up here in your ivory tower, but they have _long_ memories about what happened. They need a distraction from the ordinary."

"And this…this load of rhino leavings is supposed to help?" He read one story out loud: "'A source close to Fire Lord Zuko says the leader of the Fire Nation has been taking ginseng as an energy and libido supplement,'" Zuko snarled, "'though it's hard to know whether or not he's taking them in order to entertain his wife…or perhaps some other mystery woman, of which there have been plenty in the past…'" He balled the paper up in his hands. "What are they trying to imply?!"

"Like, _duh._" She snickered. "You better not let Katara see that. She still has a thing against that Jin girl."

"Hey, _she_ kissed _me,_" Zuko insisted defensively. "And I think my wife would know better than to believe the musings of a deranged author," he growled.

"I dunno. Katara can be awfully gullible. She married _you,_ didn't she?"

Smoke curled up from his fists.

"That better not be the smell of my _Fadmon_ going up in flames," Toph said, sniffing the air. "I was saving it for Sokka."

Zuko decided to get on with the reason for this meeting. "I called you here because I need your help, Toph. I need you to talk with my wife and find out how I can win her back into my bed. She's been refusing me for…well, too long." He clenched his jaw stubbornly. "It's unseemly for the Fire Lady to refuse her Lord."

"_Pfft._ Like_that_ argument will work," Toph muttered. "Well, I'm at your service. But only 'cuz you're not as bright as everyone makes you out to be…plus you don't annoy me as much as everyone else does."

Surprised by this semi-compliment batter-fried in sarcasm and rolled in toasted bravado, he blurted, "Uh…Th-thank you?"

"I'll just go to say hello to Azula first." She turned to go.

"NO!" Zuko lunged forward and grabbed her arm. "No, say nothing to my sister about this."

"Why not?" She shook him off. "'Zula probably already knows by now. She's got her fingers in all kinds of pies…and other things." Toph made a wry face. "Maybe she'll have some advice of her own for you. It's not like she really has anything against Katara…"

"She doesn't need to have anything against anyone to make their life miserable," Zuko uttered bleakly.

"Whatever. I'll go do your bidding, _Your Majesty,_ and see Katara first." She bowed grandly. Then she paused to consider something. "Tell you what. You keep that issue of _Fadmon_ to yourself for now. I can get another one in the market later."

"The market? Here? In the Fire Nation?" Zuko was taken aback by this shocking news.

"Geez, Zuko, are you getting senile? Of course I meant here. The latest issue should be on stands soon." She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "I can't wait to see what they've found out about what Haru uses in his hair. He's always kept that a secret, even from Azula, and it makes her absolutely _crazy._"

With that, Toph strolled away, whistling. Still clutching the leaflet in his hand, Zuko sat heavily down on his throne, mind reeling.

How could this pack of lies have made it all the way to the royal capitol? Where were these two-bit publishers finding the money to produce enough copies to distribute worldwide? Surely a cabbage man and a Kyoshian peasant had no way to afford such grand distribution.

But a more pressing issue assaulted the Firebender's mind. His subjects—still being a tad weak in the head after a century of systematic brainwashing from exposure to military propaganda—would read this garbage and take it for the truth! If he didn't take action now, the Fire Lord and his royal line would be mocked and become the laughingstock of the world!

All of Zuko's hard work, all the sacrifices he'd made, the hardships he'd endured…all of it would mean nothing—his power and his hold on the throne would mean nothing—if he couldn't disprove what was written within these pages, and father a child by his lovely wife.

As the little gossip rag burst into a shiny ball of flames in his fist, Zuko knew he had a new enemy to contend with now. It was no bounty hunter or sneering self-important commander. It wasn't his maniacal sister or twisted father. It wasn't even himself, for once.

No, this new threat was far more sinister. And he would make sure to snuff it out.

"_Fadmon,"_ he growled a vow between clenched teeth, _"your ass is mine."_


	12. Toph Love

* * *

**Toph Love**

* * *

Toph doesn't knock. Doors open for her.

"Katara!" she yelled as the suite's double doors jumped apart.

"What the—?" The Waterbender shot up from her seat where she'd been reading. "Toph? What are you doing here?"

"Listen up," she said, ignoring the pleasantries. "I have a message to deliver, and I want to get it over with because I've got other things to do, other people to see…and by _see_ I mean feel up. _Zing!_" She grinned.

"Nice to see you, too." Katara straightened her mussed-up appearance, regardless of what the Earthbender could and couldn't see.

Toph stomped her foot and produced a marble stool upon which she perched her pert little bottom.

Wincing, Katara suddenly remembered how hard the palace staff had to work whenever the master Earthbender visited. She made furniture everywhere she went out of whatever metal, earth or stone was around. One time, servants had spent nearly a week chipping away at a living room set she'd erected in her quarters and forgotten to sink back into the marble floor from whence it'd come.

The palace architects and engineers especially hated Toph with the passion of a million suns. Such was her disregard for the palace's structural integrity that an ill-placed ottoman was in danger of collapsing a whole wing. It was only because she was a revered hero of the land that they abstained from putting down hardwood flooring.

That, and the whole Firebending thing…

Well, at least she wasn't Bumi. The royal liked to make random and distastefully suggestive knobs protrude from the walls from which he could hang his outlandish outerwear.

"Okay, here goes." Toph took a deep breath and started counting off on her fingers.

"One: Zuko's unhappy. He wants a kid. And he says you're not putting out."

Katara's jaw swung open in outrage. "What! That little—"

Toph cut her off. "Let's not start a name-calling war before we look at this thing head-on." She folded her arms across her chest. "Look, we all know Zuko's not the brightest flame in the fountain. Otherwise he'd have talked to you about all this baby business by now.

"The thing is, he doesn't know _how_ to talk to you about it. He always goes rushing into things without really thinking them through, you know that."

"_Rushing_ is a good word to use," Katara said bitterly.

"He's going crazy without you," Toph said sincerely. "He misses being with you."

The Waterbender huffed, "Well, he hasn't exactly demonstrated it."

"And how is he supposed to do that when you won't even see him?"

Katara shifted from foot to foot uneasily, eyes averted.

"He's been seeking advice from all four corners of the world. Hell, he was even talking to Haru, and you know the boy ain't right. I should know." She flexed her hands, knuckles popping. "Zuko wants your marriage to work. And he wants you to have his babies. He wants a family, Katara. Have you even talked about it together?"

The Waterbending master hugged herself and mumbled, "A few times."

"Good. That's a start." Toph checked that important point off and went on to the next. "Okay, two: You have to stop being a child and hiding out in your room when things get huffy between you and hubby."

Katara protested, "Now that's not fair—"

"Sister, _life's_ not fair. You're the Fire Lady. Start acting like one." Toph ungraciously picked her nose and flicked her dug up treasure away. "And I don't mean put on airs and graces and all that phony crap. Remember how you used to be the sugar queen? Remember how you wanted to talk out every little thing because you were trying to be understanding, trying to get it all out in the open, trying to deal with it?"

"Well…yeah…but—"

"Where is she? Where's that Katara I used to know?" Toph jumped to her feet and stomped up to her. "You used to be tough as nails." She poked her in the chest. "You used to fight for the things you wanted. What happened?"

Katara bit her lip. "Toph, you don't understand…"

"I _do_ understand. Katara, You know, I spent my most of my life cloistered and hidden away by my parents. I was given every privilege money could afford except for the one thing I wanted most: freedom. And here you are, the frickin' queen of the world, with the world at your fingertips and every means by which to reach out and take it. And all you're doing is sitting in your room and sulking. You've made a prison all on your own!"

Toph's anger was like a boulder rolling down a steep cliff—you'd get flattened if you tried to stand in its path.

She went on, "I might be blind, but you know what I see? I see a scared little girl who won't face her feelings or her fears. I see my friend who got married and a year later, she's so afraid of her husband and her new life she won't even come out to play."

The Water Tribe woman—for she was a true woman now—looked away, ashamed. Softly she said, "Toph, it's hard here. It's hard being the Fire Lady, even in this time of peace and prosperity. I have all kinds of friends and family—Aang visits a lot, Sokka's here. I've even made friends with Ty Lee."

Toph made a sour face and muttered, "Ugh. Pinky."

"But there are just so many expectations. So many people watching me. Everything I do…I'm afraid I'll do it wrong. It's not like when we were trying to save the world, you know? That was a secret mission compared to all this." She gestured all around her, her arm sweeping around to encompass the Fire Lady's opulent suite, the decadent capitol city, and the lush Fire Nation landscape spread out beyond the royal balcony.

"Uh, blind?" Toph piped up, waving a hand in front of her face. "If you're pointing at something…?"

"I meant all of this luxury, this place, the people, the power…" She expelled a breath. "All I ever wanted to be was a master Waterbender. I mean, I always knew I wanted to be a mom, too, the best mom ever…but the pressure…" She grimaced, then sighed. "Toph, we tried. We really did. But the expectation…the stress…my body just won't…" Tears filled her eyes, but didn't fall.

"Oh." Toph's brow softened. "Oh. Gee. Um…" The Earthbender rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly remembering the issue of _Fadmon_ she'd been carrying around. She herself had been surreptitiously peeping in on her friends' lives through a sheet of paper, inadvertently adding to Katara's stress. "I came down kinda hard on you then, didn't I?"

"A little."

"Oh." She reddened. "Well. Don't I feel dumb." She coughed. "And here I was trying to be funny. You know, in the 'oh, gods, that hurts' kinda way."

Katara smiled wryly. "You were still that."

Toph smiled lopsidedly, accepting her friend's forgiveness. "Cool."

They stood together awkwardly.

"You still need to talk about it with Zuko, though."

"Can I tell you something?" Katara said suddenly. "I mean, you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"C'mon, sugar queen, you know that's not going to happen. I lock up my secrets in a wood box. By which I mean coffin. _Zing!_"

Still wondering who this Zing person was, Katara took Toph's hands and sat her friend down. "Zuko's…well…" She hesitated, searching for a word.

"Terrible in bed? Smells funny? Kisses like a donkey-bat?" Toph supplied.

"_Hot." _Katara fanned herself, her eyes going hazy. "No, seriously, _hot_. As in, when he gets near, I burn up."

"Eew!" Toph recoiled.

"But that's more than half the problem," Katara explained. "I mean, in addition to the stress. With all that heat, I can't…that is, my, um…it won't…get…" She shrugged, eyes darting downward, trying to coax the meaning out of Toph, who again frowned.

"Hello? Blind? Can't see!"

"_Down there,"_ Katara whispered, then hid her face in mortification.

"Oh, gross!" Toph stood, throwing her hands up. "Really, I mean, I can talk to Azula about this stuff because she's _au natural_ about it, but you…you're so…so _pure._"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to talk to, and Azula…she's so _frank._ And this is about her _brother._"

The Earthbender let out a long sigh. "Look, sex is a natural thing. It's a process. We're all here because our parents had sex. It's a fact of life. Period. You don't need to treat it like it's terrible and immoral. Geez, why is it always about sex with you?"

"You just called me 'pure' and shunned me for talking about my so-called 'natural' bodily functions."

"That's because_you're_ being squeamish." She made a noise of frustration. "Okay, look. You and Zuko, _your husband,_ who knows you intimately, should be able to talk this out together. I know it sounds crazy, but give it a shot, okay?"

"But that's the problem. We can't talk about it. It's too embarrassing for both of us because…because…"

"You're both too proud to admit something's wrong between you." Toph shook her head, rubbing her face tiredly.

Katara crossed her arms mulishly. "You're not married. You don't understand."

"And they call Earthbending bitter work? _Pfft._ Please." She stalked about the room. "No one said marriage is easy, sugar queen. Mastering bending's a snap compared to keeping up a lifelong relationship. You can't just click your heels together and expect everything to go your way and be all happily ever after. I mean, what fun would life be otherwise?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right."

"I _know _I'm right." Toph walked toward her. "Just…talk to him, okay? Promise me you'll do that right away."

"Yeah. Okay. I will."

She started to leave, then paused in the doorway. "Prep a nice bubble bath for two by candlelight this evening. Feed each other fruit and chocolate. That should help with your…_other_ problems...down…there… _Ick._" She stuck her tongue out. "Sorry, I can't help it. It might be natural, but I can't think of you and Zuko without thinking about water stains and burn marks on the sheets."

Katara stared at the girl, barely sixteen years of age. "Uh, Toph? Do I want to know how you know about all this…?"

"Like I said," Toph grinned again, "ask Azula. She's not just a perfectionist when it comes to Firebending."

And with that, the greatest Earthbender went to seek out her friend.


	13. The Second Coming

**Happy Lunar New Year and a lovely Valentine's Day to you all!**

* * *

**The Second Coming**

* * *

After Toph's smackdown talking-to, Katara took her friend's advice to heart and began preparations for a very sensual night to enjoy with her husband. 

She prepared a bath, filling the en suite's tub for two with scented bathwater and flower petals. She ordered the cooks to prepare a sumptuous feast of finger foods she and Zuko would feed each other. Servants brought fresh flowers and silk curtains in to decorate the suite, and the royal candle lighter (yes, there is, in fact, a Firebender whose sole job is to adjust lighting) set up an elaborate display of long-burning lamps and tapers to create just the right mood and atmosphere.

Finally, Katara brushed her hair out and donned her sexiest outfit—soft, sheer, and leaving nothing whatsoever to the imagination, the floozy.

At her desk, she penned a note to her husband in her florid script, spritzed a touch of perfume upon it and gave it to a valet to be hand-delivered.

And then she waited, anticipation drawing every dewy ounce of excitement to her…heart.

* * *

The note came during the middle of an important state of affairs meeting. Irritated by the interruption, Zuko snatched the piece of paper out of the timid valet's hand. 

_I'm ready,_ the note read. _Come and get me._

He shot to his feet. "Gentlemen, I have urgent business. I must ask you all to leave now."

One minister protested, "But my lord, the birth rate is at a critical low and we must—"

"I'm _working_ on it."

As he exited, he addressed the steward: "Evacuate the royal wing of all non-essential personnel. I want _no disturbances, _do you hear? I don't care if Agni himself is on the doorstep. No one is to bother me or my wife until we both emerge. Anyone who does will be executed on the spot."

"E-evacuate…? Execute…?" The steward's face actually lit up, because the only other time the Fire Lord had made such a threat was right after his wedding. Zuko was, after all, a very noisy lover and _everyone_ within a mile radius knew when he was…well, you know. In fact, the Lord of the Firebenders was out-grunted only by his lovely Waterbender wife, who, at the apex of their passion, was prone to screaming out obscenities, most of them not fit for repetition.

Being familiar with the Fire Lord's recent marital issues, his command could only mean reconciliation was on the make. The steward saluted smartly, pleased by this development. "Yes, Your Majesty! Right away!"

Zuko quickly made his way to his conjugal bedroom, nearly tripping over himself to meet his wife. When he finally arrived, half-undressed and panting, he was met by a sight even the blind could appreciate.

"_Hey, Zuko."_ Katara shimmied up to him seductively. "Wanna show me your Dancing Dragon?"

* * *

"Way to go, Sugar Queen," Toph murmured to herself some hours later when a joyous howling noise shattered the sepulchral silence in the palace.

* * *

The royal couple stayed in their bedroom all night and into the next day…and still they did not emerge. But the racket that could be heard throughout the capitol assured everyone the Fire Lord and Lady were alive and very, very well. 

"They're at it_ again?_" Sokka groaned three days later as his tower of books juddered, shaking and at the mercy of the rhythmic pounding reverberating throughout the library. "I swear, even Azula's not this…this…"

"Energetic? Ravenous? Nymphomaniacal?" Toph suggested.

"Violent."

A piece of plaster loosened from the ceiling, nearly hitting Sokka.

The Earthbender turned her face upwards, listening. "Maybe they're getting help from Haru. He's good at making…" she coughed _"…aides."_

"I hear he's still on the loose."

Odd, Toph thought. Azula was expert at hunting him down, and Haru didn't exactly make it difficult.

Sokka went on, "Besides, Zuko's not into Rock 'n' Roll."

How Sokka knew what his brother-in-law was into, Toph didn't bother to ask. She did, however, think his term for Earthbending sexplay was stupid.

"Well, whatever they're into, we should all be so lucky to have that kind of love and passion in our lives," she intoned sagely, taking a page out of Iroh's big book of spouting random bits of wisdom. "With everything that happens in the world, a lot of married couples don't have healthy sexual relationships."

"But this has got to be…" he counted on his fingers "…the sixth time today!_ Something's_ gotta give!" He crossed his legs just thinking about the friction burn.

"They do have a lot of time to make up for." Toph grinned. "So give 'em a break. After all, they are trying to make your future niece or nephew."

Sokka gagged. His stack of books tipped over and scattered across the workbench as another dual moan of ecstasy ripped through the walls. He covered his ears with his hands.

"Oh, don't be such a prude. It's not like you and Azula do anything different."

His eyes snapped up angrily. "Why does everyone assume I do anything with Azula?" He snarled, his voice growing harsh. "I've never done _anything_ with or to Azula! I'm not Aang or Jet and I'm _definitely_ not Haru!"

Toph paused, perplexed. "But...I always thought..."

"You thought wrong."

Then Sokka made a noise Toph had never heard before—a growl, or a snort, or a laugh…it was a sound describing an emotion she couldn't quite name.

She furrowed her brow. "What _was_ that?"

"What was what?" Sokka ground his jaw.

"That noise you just made. It almost sounded like you were—"

"It was nothing," the Water Tribe warrior said, staring intently at his book without reading.

"Liar." She studied him in only the way she could. "Sokka…what's going on between you and the princess?"

"_Absolutely nothing."_ He repeated, slamming his book closed. "I need to concentrate. I'm taking this to my room."

With that, he stomped away, leaving Toph bewildered…and with yet another mystery on her hands.

"I swear I'm the only one who knows how to fix things around here," she sighed, and went to find Azula.


	14. Absence Makes the Heart Go Wander

* * *

**Absence Makes the Heart Go Wander**

* * *

Toph made her way through the palace, delicately seeking the steady, unmistakable heartbeat that was Azula's.

She didn't know what it was that made the princess of the Fire Nation so sure of herself, so steady and iron-willed that even her biological functions bent to her whims—the girl's heart rate didn't even speed up when she was engaged in strenuous activities.

Hell, Azula had even shown her she could make heart _stop_ altogether, if she so desired.

Hers was a unique lub-dub that was mechanical and keen, as precise and intense as the princess herself.

So it was disconcerting when, after almost an hour of wandering the palace, Toph's sensitive feet couldn't find her.

But they did find someone else.

A flick of the wrist the wall crumbled away, revealing Haru hiding buried within an unnaturally lumpy alcove.

Toph made a noise of disgust. In a mere second and a half she had him trussed up, arms and legs bound together with cuffs of marble scooped up from the polished palace floor.

"Please! Please don't tell her!" he pleaded, eyes wild with fear. "I'm begging you, those space metal cuffs conduct lightning really well and—"

"Take it easy, Hair Boy." Toph had never really come up with a good name for the Earthbender, and was constantly trying new ones. Hair Boy wasn't it, though.

She kneeled down next to him. "Word around here is that you've been on the lam for three days now." She tilted her head. "Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?"

He pouted, forehead puckered. "Well...I thought maybe Azula was busy..."

"You'd better hope not." Toph snickered. "Do you know what happens to concubines the royals lose interest in?"

Haru shook his head, wariness in his eyes.

She grinned maliciously. "They get sent to the hair farms where they grow and harvest your hair to make wigs and dolls. And with all those pretty locks of yours…"

"Eek! No! I'm too pretty for that!" He clasped his arms over his head.

Heh, heh. Haru was so easy to manipulate. She could see why Azula kept him around—he was way more fun to torture than Sokka. "You're going to want to get back on her, er, _good_ side if you want to save those silky, shining locks of yours, El Moustachio."

No. That wasn't it, either.

She went on, "Help me find Azula. If you show her a good time and remind her why she keeps you around, she won't even entertain the thought of sending you away."

The young man stared at her. "_You_ can't find her?" He'd gone from fear to grave concern in under five seconds, which pretty much proved what everyone else suspected about his relationship with the princess. The boy wasn't afraid of Azula at all. "She's still in the palace, isn't she?"

"She ought to be—no one's told me otherwise," Toph replied. "But I can't 'see' her."

"Which can only mean she's either not in the palace or her heart rate has changed. And that means something is very, very wrong." Tension edged his voice and he shook his marble bindings. "Get me out of these," he said gruffly.

The command was so direct and firm Toph had to blink back her surprise. She uncuffed him with a wave.

An intense change had come over him. She could sense the determination and steely will rolling off him in waves. His whole frame had expanded, as if he'd unfolded himself from the fetal position he'd assumed these past few months. His heart, a meek flutter a few minutes ago, now pounded in his chest like a beast barely restrained.

It was…well, fascinating.

And kind of sexyfine.

"Where did you see her last?" Toph asked as Haru brushed himself off.

"I was in the garden, and she'd invited Iroh to join her for tea in her parlor. But that was a few days ago. I haven't seen her since."

Azula had invited her uncle for tea? Azula never drank tea. She usually preferred martinis in the afternoon or fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas in them if she felt like something more refreshing.

Stranger yet, she almost never kept company with Iroh. Certainly the old man wasn't fond of her—everyone knew that.

What was the girl up to?

"We should split up. You check the parlor first," Haru said, "I'll go to her suite and see if she's there."

"I'll talk to Iroh and see what he knows. Haru—" Toph called, and he stopped in his tracks, turning. His heart clenched with increasing panic, and Toph felt a little bad for him. "I'm sure she's fine," she reassured him.

Haru said nothing, his lips pursed in a thin line. He marched swiftly towards Azula's suite, purpose in every stride.

"Nothing's ever what it seems around here, is it?" Toph grumbled to herself. "Why can't a spade just be a spade when I visit..."

She headed for Azula's parlor.


	15. Heavy Petting

* * *

**Heavy Petting**

* * *

Iroh sat across from his niece, sipping his fragrant lemur-picked tea, balancing his weight so he'd be able to dodge a lightning bolt at any moment.

Since her nasty little sneak attack back in the Earth Kingdom those five or so years ago, he'd learned not to trust Princess Azula farther than she could throw his weight.

(Of course, he hadn't ever trusted the little monster. Not since she'd been a teething baby and had developed a penchant for yanking on beards and biting noses.)

He'd once said she was crazy and needed to be taken down: That was still true, of course, but because his nephew had developed some strange, warped sense of trust in her and allowed her to live in the palace, the old Dragon of the West humored the young Fire Lord, and treated his niece with respect and kindness.

Well…as much as one could afford for someone with all the charm and humanity of a rabid hyena-viper with a personality disorder.

At her request, he'd been taking his daily tea with her since their encounter in the garden. And though he'd become semi-accustomed to her company, he was still nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could sense an issue perched on her lips: As they blithely discussed the weather, the state of the kingdom and various other dolorous topics, his trepidation built to Hippo-cow-sized proportions.

"Cookie?" The princess smilingly proffered a plate of delicate almond biscuits on a doillied porcelain plate.

He took one, said "Thank you" and sniffed it surreptitiously, trying to scent any poison. But when Azula stuffed her own mouth with three of the biscuits, he went ahead and nibbled the confection. It tasted deliciously of suspicion.

She rearranged herself on the throw cushions, looking for all the world like the princess she could have become under different circumstances—draped in luxurious pink silks and lace, glittering with awesomely expensive jewels, batting her eyelashes prettily at him, begging for a story or some such tidbit to pass the time.

Once upon a time, he'd wanted a niece like that to spoil.

But seeing her transformed to this state only unnerved him. The clothes were bad enough on their own. It wasn't simply that she'd eschewed her usual crisp palace attire in formidable shades of red, black and gold—it was that she'd unabashedly donned a shade of pink that absolutely did not suit her. And the cut of the dress was terribly unfashionable with more ruffles and adornments than was strictly necessary. Only her Water Tribe bridesmaid dress out-uglied this outfit. She looked like a flamingo-pig in a gaudy tutu.

"Refill?" She held the little clay pot up, chin tilted coquettishly.

"Please." He fought to keep his face pleasant as she refilled his cup with all the precision and grace of a concubine.

"So…" she began, and Iroh prepared himself for a fight.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering…that is, I was thinking about getting a pet."

Iroh blinked. "A…a pet?"

"Mmm-hmm." Her lips slanted up, and she gazed off into the middle distance with dreamy eyes. "It was a sudden whimsy, really. I was just walking around, looking for Haru and thinking, if only I had a leash on that boy. And then I realized, well, I'm a princess. _Of course_ I can afford a leash. The best money and fear can buy. But while I'm at it, shouldn't I get a pet to go with the leash?"

He was still wrapping his head around the fact that Azula, always perfectly focused and on task, _still_ had not found the wayward Earthbender. "A…a pet?" Iroh repeated, gaping.

"Are you even listening to me, Uncle? Yes, a pet." She leaned forward, propping her chin up in her palm. "You've been all around the world, seen all kinds of magnificent animals. I was hoping you could suggest something appropriate."

The old general shook off his surprise. "I…well, um, that is…"

"I know, I know, if Katara gets pregnant…no, _when_ Katara gets pregnant because, after all, we must all think positively about this—" her lips spread into an avaricious smile "—we don't want her exposed to all those germs the animals bring in. I mean, of course I want to have the thing by my side at dinner and such, but not at the cost of my niece or nephew's health. And anyhow, what good is a pet if I simply leave its care up to a servant?"

Iroh cleared his throat uncomfortably. He could detect no trace of the devious Azula in her words…not that he ever really could, she was that good at lying. But she seemed honestly concerned for Katara's and her future baby's health, and that made him wonder. "Indeed. So you really have given this some thought."

She tapped her chin. "Do you think it would be gauche to ask the peace summit delegates to suggest something? Maybe even…get them to bring me some live presents?" She cocked her head sweetly, sheepishly, and every bone in Iroh's body buzzed in warning. Something was definitely up with his niece.

"I wouldn't request it in any formal way," he answered carefully. "Perhaps the best thing would be for us to go down to the library and do some research about the kinds of animals you're interested in first."

"Oh, no, no, no, I can't do that." She shook her head, a grave look falling over her face. "Sokka's down there and we're…well, things are weird between us right now."

_Things are weird between you and everyone, _Iroh refrained from saying, and coughed into his fist to keep the thought from bursting out of his mouth. "Let us discuss the subject here, then," he said. "I'll have someone bring us a zoological encyclopedia."

"Already done." She nodded and a Dai Li agent emerged out of nowhere, it seemed, carrying a large tome in his stone-gloved hands.

Iroh shuddered. Those rocky digits were unnerving. And _soooo_ last-season.

Placing the encyclopedia on the table between them, they flipped the book open at random. The yellowing pages fanned apart until they settled.

"Ooh, that's pretty." Azula's eyes lit up as she read, "'Barbed lemon croco-cock.'" She fingered the bright colors on the ugly feathered reptile. "I want that."

"Princess, the croco-cock has been extinct for more than two hundred years," Iroh gently pointed out. "Swampbenders hunted them out of existence."

"Oh." She pouted. "Well, it won't do for me to own something so utterly weak that it couldn't survive those pantless hicks. What else is there?" She riffled through the pages.

"How about this?" He stopped on a harmless-looking singing teacup gopher.

"Trust you to pick anything with the word 'tea' in it." She rolled her eyes. "But I do like this one." She pointed at the opposite page.

"The poisonous stinging death dolphin." Iroh considered it briefly. "You might have some issues walking that thing around on a leash."

"How silly of me to forget." She laughed, and the sound made his spleen quiver. "Oh, well. Let's keep looking."

They spent the afternoon bent over the tome, and made their way through almost the entire book before Azula slammed her palms down on a page and pointed, squealing, "That's the one! That's the one! Oh, Uncle, it's perfect! Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeaase tell me I can have that one!"

Her normally keen, critical eyes were huge and sparkly with hope, hands clasped in supplication. Her mouth was soft with pleas, her cheek rosy with something else that was equally un-Azula-ish.

Iroh had never been more disturbed.

He looked at the book, looked at his niece, looked at the book again. Why would the princess want _that_ animal in particular? He was trying to puzzle out what nefarious scheme Azula had concocted, because there was no other way to explain this behavior.

Perhaps this creature had some kind of gland that secreted a deadly poison. Or maybe its fecal matter was toxic and could be used to slowly drive her brother mad, forcing him off the throne. Or perhaps the creature would reproduce at an exponential rate until the whole palace was buried in them, thus driving out the royal family and leaving the princess in charge….

But it was such a…a_ common_ animal. Unique in its own strange way, but so unlike the princess.

"Please, please, please, please, pleeeease…." Azula whimpered.

Then again, maybe it really was just a pet.

"I don't see any problems with this animal…" So far.

"Ooh, goody!" Azula clapped. "I'm going to the have the gamekeeper procure me a whole litter of them so I can pick one. What do you think? Spots? Stripes? Calico?"

"When it comes to companions, they often pick you, not the other way around," he quipped sagely.

Azula smiled. "You're_so_ wise, Uncle." She beamed back at the page, stroking the watercolor picture lovingly as if she were already holding her cherished animal friend, tears brimming in her unnaturally soft eyes. "I can't wait until you're in my arms, little one. Mommy will love you and take care of y—"

"Azula!" The doors burst open. "Are you here? Is that you?"

They started. "Toph?" The princess stood. "What are you doing here?"

"It _is_ you," the Earthbender sighed in relief, but her voice sounded distinctly confused.

"Of course it's me. Who else would I be?" She laughed.

Iroh looked from the Earthbender to the princess. Toph looked perplexed—he wondered how she could have mistaken Azula's identity. She always knew when her friend was around, had always been proud of her ability to detect Azula's heartbeat….

And that's when Iroh knew.


	16. The New Campaign

* * *

**The New Campaign**

* * *

A week passed, and eventually, the Fire Lord and Lady exited their boudoir, both of them beaming at each other, satisfaction and promise of future nights like the ones they'd just shared lighting their limpid eyes. As much as they would have preferred to hide away from the world together, the peace summit was about to begin, and they knew there was a lot of work ahead. 

Zuko, especially, had an agenda, now that his most pressing problem of securing and heir was—he was quadruply certain—taken care of.

Delegates began arriving one by one, two by two, ten by ten, and through many other numerical pairings that basically boiled down to a bunch of people showing up on the Fire Nation palace doorsteps all at once.

"And without even sending a messenger hawk first to let us know they're on the way," the head steward complained as he directed the servants to usher yet another arriving party to their quarters. "The falconers didn't spend years training those things to be song birds. Why can't people just jot a quick note? Is it so hard to keep in touch with us now and again…?"

Not that the palace hadn't been preparing for this very important occasion since last year, when everyone had been invited during the Fire Lord's wedding to return for what would ultimately devolve into yet another boisterous party.

"Peace summit," Sokka had declared, "is really just code for 'big ass party.'"

By week's end, the royal capitol was brimming with delegates, both royal and common, representing regions and towns and nations from around the globe. It was a fantastic gathering, a reunion of goodies and baddies that mixed some of the most unlikely characters, some of whom had never met…

Of course, for this group, it was all old hat.

"King Bumi!" Pakku greeted jovially. He crossed the grand ballroom floor where all the delegates were gathered for a cocktail reception, shaking the old Earthbender's hand vigorously. "How are you, your Majesty?"

"Master Pakku, so good to see you," the old king returned. "I assume your uncharacteristic good mood is due to the recent announcement in the latest issue of _Fadmon?_"

"So you've heard!" Pakku grinned. "Kana and I are very happy together. I do hope you'll be at the wedding next spring."

"I'm not marrying you, you delusional lout!" Gran-Gran cried from across the room. "What part of _no_ didn't you understand?"

"I love you, too, my little seal turtle-seal pup!" the cantankerous Waterbender called back, blowing her a kiss.

"You're crazy! You're crazy and I _still_ hate you!"

"Aw, the blushing bride's stomping away," Bumi cooed, wiping a tear away. "I remember my first wife doing the exact same thing…"

"I don't suppose you've seen the Fire Lord?" Pakku asked, glancing about. "I thought it'd be good to greet my new…er…grandson in-law? Yes, I suppose that's what he'll be, won't he?" He grinned, delighted by the prospect of holding his age and wisdom over the young ruler's head.

"Zuko's probably getting fancied up for this shindig. We've got quite a turnout." Bumi looked around at the milling crowd. "I do hope he decides to wear the green and yellow ele-pheasant feather-leather hat I sent him—he needs to start dressing more like a king if he's going to be taken seriously!" He primped the furry purple-and-gold boa wrapped around his neck for emphasis.

At that moment, the Fire Lord came striding in. Resplendent in formal red-and-gold-trimmed garb, Zuko scanned the crowd with eyes like molten fire. Eveyone had fallen silent at the intensity in his stare, the aura of determination wafting about him like a bad stench.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed, "thank you all for coming. I know you expected to have a good time this week, but I have news of a very disturbing nature."

Uneasiness rippled through the crowd.

Zuko went on. "A new force is threatening to consume us, to tear our hard-earned alliances apart and break down the friendships we have forged over these past few years.

"Initial reports say these deviant bastards are among us even now, spreading lies and discord through the four nations.With Avatar Aang's help—"

"Wait, I'm doing what now?" Aang piped in, confounded.

"—we will gather a task force to help crush this incursion and once more bring order, stability, peace and prosperity to the world."

"Fire Lord," Katara's father, Chief Hakoda, stepped forward, a look of grim concern lining his brow. "What threat is this you speak of?"

"THIS." Zuko flapped out the latest issue of _Fadmon_ and held it up for all to see. The front page headline read: _**Jetko—the new Zutara?**_

Everyone was silent.

They shuffled and stared at their feet.

Someone coughed…perhaps to smother a laugh.

"It's not going to be an easy campaign," Zuko intoned gravely, ignoring the sidelong glances everyone was giving each other. "I estimate it'll be at least a year-long deployment—"

"Excuse me, Fire Lord," The Northern Water Tribe Chief Arnook piped up. "Are you suggesting we start a war with a...a gossip rag?" His mouth contorted into a twisted line of skepticism and disbelief.

But the Fire Lord was dead serious. "This is more than a simple tabloid," Zuko insisted, a fever blazing in his eyes. "This is about the spread of dangerous, nefarious lies that could poison the minds of our people, our children!" His stare raked through the crowd imploringly. "The next thing you know, they'll start believing in swamp monsters, and that Zhao's ghost walks among us!"

"I, for one, support Zuko's idea," King Bumi announced with a serious nod. "Have you read the things _Fadmon's_ said about my wardrobe?" He sniffed.

"_Fadmon_ is harmless," Hakoda argued. "So they make up stories and produce scandalous art for the masses to titter at. Who cares?"

"Obviously, you haven't seen the latest issue, father-in-law," Zuko said lowly, and his cheeks darkened to a deep shade of vermillion. "There's an absolutely lovely feature in here about your relationship..." he ground his teeth "…_with my mother._"

"I thought the picture was flattering," Arnook put in with a smile. "Though a few weeks ago, _Fadmon_ said you were shacking up with Bato." He nudged him and winked. "Hakoda, you sly old dog."

"That was...I didn't...Bato and I...Ursa was just..." he spluttered, then went very pale when someone handed the broadsheet to him and he saw the titillating and rather detailed painting at the top of the page.

"Oh…oh my…"

Always one to show up at the most inappropriate times, Jet ambled up behind him and peered over his shoulder in interest. He smirked. "Are the proportions accurate?"

The Water Tribe Chief declined to answer.

Oyagi, leader of Kyoshi, protested loudly, "_Fadmon'_s headquarters are located on Kyoshi Island! They are absolutely harmless! I cannot condone a military action of any kind!"

"And their distribution and editorial networks employ hundreds, perhaps thousands of hands across the globe," Hue, the Swampbenders' spiritual leader, said. "Even our backwaters are touched by its presence. We're all connected, after all. This threat is just an illusion—"

"Save your backwards rhetoric, Yoda," Zuko cut in, hand slashing the air. "We cannot, in good conscience, continue to allow _Fadmon_ to perpetuate these fabrications and profit from them!"

"It's a non-profit organization!" Oyagi shouted back. "They do it for fun!"

"What do you propose?" Katara's father had capitulated rather quickly, and with the charismatic leader's support, other hearts followed.

"We must form an alliance against the enemy," Zuko said firmly. "We will join forces, just as we united to fight my father, and uproot this organization."

"This is an outrage!" Oyagi cried. "This is insane! _Fadmon_ is nothing but the delusional and twisted fantasies of a group of inbred cretins! You can't march an invasion force to Kyoshi!"

"The campaign will go farther than that," the Fire Lord told him, then addressed the group. "We must erase _Fadmon_ from the minds of the people. We must destroy every copy that has been printed, and ensure it never darkens the world again!"

An uproarious cheer went up and a hearty round of applause for Zuko's conviction filled the chamber.

"Isn't anyone listening to me?" Oyagi hopped up and down, but the gnomish Kyoshian was being ignored like a child throwing a tantrum.

Of course, _Fadmon_ had never deigned to criticize the gracious leader of the island upon which they stationed their central office, so he'd never been affected by their special brand of _attention_ and _affection_.

Then again, Oyagi was so straitlaced and boring, he could render Mai comatose.

Meanwhile, choruses of hearty agreements echoed through the room, and each delegate came to clap the Fire Lord on the back, lauding his decisive action—the first he'd ever made to lead the world.

For the first time in Zuko's life, it was all coming together for him. He really was going to take _Fadmon _down.

There was one little detail he hadn't worked out yet, however.

With that, he excused himself and went to seek out his sister.


	17. Counsel

* * *

**Counsel**

* * *

The Fire Lord found his sister in her suite, sitting on the bed between Toph and Iroh.

Azula was crying.

"What's going on? Why are all of you here?" He stared at each of them in turn and frowned at his sister. "This isn't another one of your sick party games, is it?"

She just sobbed louder. The sound made Zuko's teeth ache.

"Leave her alone, you meanie." Toph glared at him…which is to say she glared to the far right of him. "Why can't you ever be nice to your sister?"

The Fire Lord gaped. Nice? She wanted him to be nicer than not locking her up in the dungeon? Nicer than letting her live freely in the palace with her harem of moochers?

His uncle shook his head in warning. "Nephew, now is not a good time." Iroh's face and forehead was creased with more wrinkles than a decrepit old Shar Pei-elephant.

"Of course now is the time to talk," Zuko said dismissively. "Where have you all been, anyhow? The summit is going on as we speak, and Katara and I have been running around taking care of everything."

"We had business," Toph snapped.

"Family business," Iroh elaborated in a grave tone, trying to psychically channel the meaning to the young Fire Lord.

But Zuko was, as usual, of a one-track mind. "We're about to go to war again," he announced proudly, eyes alight.

"War?" Toph got to her feet. "With who?"

"_Fadmon."_

The Earthbender was about to protest—she loved the tabloid, after all. She opened her mouth wide, but whatever vituperation she had for Zuko died on her tongue. Anticlimactically, she shrugged. "Well…all right. If that's what you really want." And more quietly to herself, muttered, "Just say I didn't warn you."

"We have a campaign to plan. We're going to strike hard and fast, and we're going to do it within the next few months. I need you, Azula," Zuko said to his sister. "I want you to be my war tsar. The day we land on Kyoshi will be the decisive blow we'll need to topple the _Fadmon_ empire. I've plotted every move of that day. That glorious day in Fire Nation history. And the only way we win is together."

Iroh rolled his eyes at Zuko's melodrama. Azula really was the only one who could get away with lines like that.

The princess looked up at him, red-eyed. "I…I can't…" she mewled.

Zuko startled.

"What do you mean 'can't'?" He threw his hands in the air. "_Can't_ isn't in your vocabulary. You've never _can't_ed in your life!"

She wiped her tears away with the heel of her palm. "I don't wanna fight," she groused petulantly.

"Don't want to…?" Zuko blinked. "You don't want to grind someone under heel so they'll never rise from the ashes of their humiliation? You don't want to annihilate a weak, easy target that utterly deserves to be crushed?"

She shook her head sadly and blew her juicy nose.

Alarmed, Zuko cried, "Uncle, what the hell is wrong with her?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," that pansy Haru growled from his spot by the window. Zuko hadn't even noticed him in the room. "We just came back from seeing a number of physicians in town. They confirmed Toph's and Iroh's suspicions."

Zuko stared nonplussed at the Earthbender peasant. He'd spoken steadily, without a trace of a whimper _or_ a lisp.

("Which is more than Zuko could say about himself…_Zing!_" Toph quipped randomly to herself, and shook her head at the errant thought.)

"And…?" Zuko still didn't understand what was going on.

Haru just stared at him, his eyes two chips of the hardest, greenest jade, his granite jaw grinding.

"I think you should call Jet, Aang and Sokka in here," Toph interrupted, not wanting to have to explain everything more than once.

"Don't call Sokka!" Azula shrieked, and Haru's eyes snapped to her. Murder was plain in his stony features.

What the hell was going on here?

"There are more important things going on right now than…than whatever is going on with my sister." Zuko was more than a little upset. His grand scheme was starting to fall apart. He'd been counting on Azula's penchant for mayhem and destruction to fuel the summit delegates' fervor to take down _Fadmon_. But she didn't even want to come out to play. "Azula, I need you," he implored.

"Is there _something_ you want me to tell Sokka for you?" Toph asked the princess, ignoring the Fire Lord.

Azula wrapped her arms around her middle. "No. Nothing."

Haru let out a noise of disgust. "I'm going for a walk," he snarled, and stomped out of the suite. Azula looked like she was about to stop him, but he slammed the door with such force, she could only wince and turn away.

"What's his problem?" Zuko asked.

Toph sighed. "You are _so_ clueless, Zuzu."

"I told you he wouldn't understand," Iroh told her tiredly. "My nephew is confident and determined, yes, but he lacks in intuition."

Right then, Zuko's intuition was telling him someone was going to get a decreased allowance for his tea fetish.

Azula had started weeping quietly to herself again, the sound raising goose bumps all over his body. The bad, creeped-out kind of goose bumps. Impatience and anxiety swirled through Zuko, seeing his little sister—yes, she was that, above all else—in such distress. If only she'd stop making those snuffling, moaning noises…

"Okay, okay, look. Whatever…whatever this is about, can it wait?" Zuko pleaded. "Azula, I promise you on the crown of the nation, if you help me destroy _Fadmon,_ I will do whatever it takes to help you with…whatever it is."

The princess sniffed and stared up at her brother with big, dark, watery eyes. "Really?"

Taken aback by the look of utter vulnerability on her pale, pointed face, he hedged, then said, "Yeah. Sure." And with a humorless laugh, added, "I'm your big brother, aren't I? Just tell me what you need."

Azula's mouth pursed, quavered. Huge tears flooded her eyes.

_Oh, hell._

She flung herself at him then, tackling him around the middle. Huge sobs racked her chest.

"I need mom!" she bawled. "Please, Zuzu, call mom and dad home!" Snot ran from her nose and smeared across his front.

He looked to Iroh in askance, bewildered and just a wee bit terrified.

The old general sighed despondently. "We need to have a family meeting, Zuko." He got up. "I will write the letters."


	18. A Summons

* * *

**A Summons**

* * *

_Dear Ursa,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Are you enjoying your tour of the Earth Kingdom? Bumi tells me you've made quite a lot of friends among the citizens of Omashu. They say Ozai looks just like his old statue…LOL!_

_Thanks for sending me along that painting of the toppled "New Ozai" monument, BTW. I'm glad to see they've put it to good use as a manure depository. (ROTFLMAO)_

_Unfortunately, I'm writing with less than friendly intentions. Azula has requested your immediate appearance…and I mean immediate. Her exact words to me—and she's standing over my shoulder right now, making sure I write them in—are "Mommy, please come home, I need you. I know I'm not the best daughter and that I've caused mayhem and destruction—" _

_Okay, I admit, that last part was mine. I'm afraid Azula is upset I put it in. She has run from my suite crying. She's been doing a lot of that lately._

_In any case, I have no intention of rewriting this letter. My hand is cramping up a lot these days._

_I hope curiosity will compel you to return post-haste. _

_Zuko says hi. He also has news for you when you get back._

_Send my love to Ozai. By which I mean punch him in the face for me._

_Your Brother-in-Law,_

_Iroh, Dragon of the West._

_P.S. Could you please pick up some milk on the way home? We seem to be out._

* * *

"Ozai!" Ursa yelled, her tone pitching high with alarm.

"My sweet? What is it?" The ex-Fire Lord rushed to his side, eyes moony with concern for his beloved.

"Pack our bags. We have to head home." She handed him the letter and got up from the desk.

"But we just got here! Don't they know we're on our second honeymoon?" He grabbed the letter and read it, eyebrows jerking up in annoyance. "Get milk? What on earth is that supposed to mean? The royal family is lactose intolerant!"

Ursa smiled patiently at her husband. Sometimes she thought the Firebending suppressant she fed him was affecting his wits. "It means," she settled her hands over his shoulders, "that we're going to be grandparents."

Ozai blinked.

He blanched.

He staggered backward.

Then he fainted, hitting the ground with a behemoth crash.

Tsking, Ursa stepped over her husband's prone body and muttered, "Lightweight," as she began preparations for their return.


	19. What to Expect When You're Expecting

**Hey all, sorry I haven't been updating as regularly as I have with all my other fics. I'm writing original fiction like mad. I have a manuscript under consideration with a publisher, so I've been keeping at it, trying to make a career out of this.**

**Mike, Bryan: I blame you. You'll see that in print one day, mark my words.**

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, for sticking with this story, and for pimping me out.  
**

**On that note, we continue with our story in progress...**

* * *

**What To Expect When You're Expecting**

* * *

Azula was pregnant.

The news spread like wildfire…which, in the Fire Nation, wasn't very fast, considering that Firebenders could shoot controlled, high-speed fireballs out of their fists. Suffice to say, though, that everyone knew in due course.

The royal physicians estimated she was perhaps two months along. She wasn't showing yet—except for her unpredictable temperament and morning sickness, which lasted throughout the day and well into the evening.

Unfortunately, the scandal around the princess's illegitimate unborn child had overshadowed another piece of important and much happier news—news the people had been waiting for since the royal wedding.

"I'm late," Katara whispered excitedly to anyone who'd listen. "I'm so very, very late, and so very, very excited!" Her eyes shone as she bounced around the palace, sometimes followed by an equally elated and extremely nervous Zuko.

"Katara, my sweet, my precious, please, stop running around!" He grabbed her to stop her from jumping up and down, jouncing the precious life forming within her. "You need to be careful in these early months…"

"But I'm so happy!" She giggled. "Am I glowing yet? Do I show?" She smoothed her hands over her still-flat belly, beaming. "I'll make a wonderful mother, won't I, Zuzu?"

"Of course you will…" He kissed her lips and hands over and over again. "Now if you'll come with me, we're going to have a nice, quiet sit in the garden while Uncle brings you some special tea…"

"I'm not made of glass, Zuko." Despite her sweet words, he could hear her annoyance. "A woman's body can handle quite a lot of stress. Babies are very resilient."

"Just, please, for my peace of mind…" He begged with his eyes.

Katara smiled. She couldn't be anything but happy with her husband at this moment. She patted the top of his head. "Okay. Oooh, you are so cute!" She pinched his cheek. "Oh, I do hope the baby looks like you!"

Arm-in-arm, Zuko and his wife went to gardens to sit in the shade of a willow tree, where Iroh had set up a lovely afternoon tea. A number of teapots hosting a bevy of brews, a platter of fruit and another of buns and other tasty confections were spread across the tatami mat. Azula was there with him, perched on a squat stool instead of on the ground, like Uncle. A second stool was available for Katara.

"I can sit on the ground," she told him.

Iroh grimaced. "Well, just for safety's sake…won't you use the stool? Sitting cross-legged will squish your tummy and make it hard for the baby to grow. Besides, it'll be more comfortable for your back."

If anyone should be watching his back, it was Iroh. But she took the stool, not really wanting to argue the point. Zuko sat next to her—one of the few times his head was actually below hers. Across the way, misery carved Azula's pale face as she wrung her hands together. She looked more wretched than Mai in the winter during her time of the month.

"How are you feeling today, Azula?" Katara asked, happiness brimming in her eyes. "Isn't it wonderful? We'll get to be mothers together!"

Azula turned green.

"I think I'm going to be sick again." The princess surged to her feet and pelted into the bushes where she loudly upchucked what little was left in her stomach after a whole day of morning sickness.

"Oh, dear." Katara sat back down when Iroh waved her off. "That can't be good."

"I've been giving her this special blend of energy tea to make up for what she keeps losing," Iroh indicated the pot he held. He poured a cup of the blacker-than-night and thicker-than-mud brew. A horrid smell like Sokka's socks wafted up from the cup. "Here. Drink up. It'll be good for the baby."

"Oh, I don't need that," Katara said, eyeing the tea. "I haven't been feeling any morning sickness…"

"It's a traditional Fire Nation pregnancy tea," Iroh explained—as if _that_ would get her to down the disgusting-smelling beverage. "It's chock full of good things to help make the child strong."

"Really, I—"

"You have to drink it," Zuko urged. "Our child will be the heir to the throne. This will make him a powerful bender."

Katara felt her cheek tick. "A powerful _Firebender_, you mean?"

Azula shuffled back just then. She looked about twice as bad as she had a moment ago. "Okay, I drank your nasty tea, Uncle. Can I please have some watermelon now?"

Iroh frowned. "I told you, you can't eat watermelon. And neither should you, Katara." He snatched the slice out of her hands just as it touched her lips.

"What? Why?" she whined.

"Bad chi. The melon's too cold, and there's too much liquid in it. It could harm the baby."

She stared at him, his pseudo-logic confounding her. "Cold? Too much liquid? Is this another Firebender thing?"

Zuko and his uncle exchanged wary glances.

"Have you guys even considered that the baby might be a Waterbender? Or not a bender at all?"

"That won't happen," Zuko insisted. "Not as long as we stick to your diet."

She barely had time to be infuriated by Zuko's arrogant comment when she heard the second part. "My…diet?"

The old general produced a scroll from the volumes of his sleeve. "A traditional pregnancy diet," he declared, "consists of foods and beverages that will ensure a strong and healthy baby, and eliminates things that may harm the baby's development."

She took the scroll from him and scanned the extensive list.

"I can't have curry?" she frowned. "Why not? I love curry!" Just talking about it made her want some.

"It'll make the baby foul tempered," Iroh told her, wryly adding, "Ursa ate a _lot_ of curry when she had Zuko."

Katara scowled and pointed at another item on the list. "No bananas? What's wrong with that?"

"All kinds of things," Iroh said. He tugged on his beard. "None of which I can remember right now, but I guarantee you it's the right thing to do. Why, my own mother didn't eat any bananas, and look how I turned out!"

She declined from editorializing. "And this…Devil Fish? What's wrong with that?"

"You don't want a scaly devil baby, do you?"

"This is ridiculous," she shoved the list at her sister-in-law. "Have you seen this, Azula?"

"Please," the princess groaned, gray-faced, "don't talk about food to me…"

"I am _not_ going to follow this ridiculous old wives' diet," the Fire Lady declared imperiously, getting to her feet. "Gran-Gran will stick up for me, too. Pregnant women in the Southern Water Tribe could eat anything they wanted, and none of their children were scaly, hot-headed devil babies!"

"You didn't have much in the village to eat apart from fish, seals, sea prunes and lichen," Zuko pointed out. "You didn't have the variety of food the palace offers."

"You can't stop me from eating what I want—or what the baby wants!" she shouted, and stomped away.

"Oh, dear." Iroh's brow puckered. "She didn't drink her tea."

"Stop with the tea," Azula moaned wretchedly, clutching her stomach. "I just want a little watermelon to wash out my mouth. Just a small bite…" She reached for a piece, but Iroh simply moved the platter to the far end of the mat, ignoring her whimpered pleas.

The Fire Lord watched his wife's back as she exited the gardens. "I may not be able to keep her from eating what she wants," he said with a supercilious leer, "But Cook doesn't have to make anything she asks for."

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, she's not going to like that one bit," Iroh commented. "You know what Katara's like when she wants something—she'll stop at nothing to get it."

"Uncle, this is for the good of the Fire Nation and the security of the throne!" His eyes shone with conviction. "She'll stick to her diet, all right, and my heir will be a powerful, talented _Fire_bender. I'll see to that personally."

And because she had no other way to express her disagreement, Azula leaned over and puked in her brother's lap.


	20. What to Expect When You're Expecting II

* * *

**What to Expect When You're Expecting II**

* * *

"Gran-Gran!"

The elderly Water Tribe woman met her granddaughter with her father and a brilliant smile as the Fire Lady pushed through the door. "Oh, I just heard the news, Katara. I'm so happy for you!" Gran said.

"My little girl," Hakoda hugged her, "all grown up."

"I'm going to be a great-grandmother!" Gran-Gran burbled, tears brimming in her eyes. "Oh! Oh! I have to start making seal-skin onesies!"

Katara laughed. "I don't think we're going to need anything that warm here in the Fire Nation, Gran."

The old woman looked taken aback. "Nonsense. They have winters here, too. Besides, it's part of your heritage. You do want your baby to grow up know his people, don't you?"

"Or her," Katara quipped automatically. After her fight with Zuko, she was very conscious of making any assumptions of what her baby would be.

But Gran's mind had been made up. "It's a him," she insisted, lifting her chin. "I can tell by the way you're walking it's going to be a boy."

"The way I'm…?" Katara looked down at her feet as though they would have the words "It's a Boy!" stamped on them.

"I've always thought it was in the slump of a woman's back," Hakoda said, eyeing his daughter's erect posture. "When your mother was pregnant with Sokka, her spine was shaped like a question mark."

Katara figured that was only because Sokka was clueless.

(Somewhere in the palace, Toph cried, "Ba-dump-bump-shing!" and began to wonder if she was starting to go slowly mad, like Bumi and all great Earthbenders seemed to.)

"No, no, you're all wrong," Pakku pushed aside the curtain he'd been hiding behind. Gran-Gran glared over at him, seeming equally surprised to find out he'd been lurking in her room. "The way to know if it's a boy is by how her breath and flatulence smell. Burning suet—it's a girl; bad meat—boy."

"Eww!" The Fire Lady recoiled in disgust.

"Go on," the old man insisted to Hakoda, "take a whiff."

Hakoda and Gran-Gran both bent at the waist.

"I am not gassy!" Katara jumped out of their smelling range, avoiding their nosy…uh, noses.

"Don't hold it in, Katara," Gran-Gran warned. "It's not good for the baby."

"I'm the Fire Lady!" Katara said harshly. "I don't…I don't _fart_ in public!"

Gran-Gran's lips lifted. "You'll have to, trust me. Especially when you start eating all the pregnancy foods I'm going to whip up…"

"Oh, no!" Katara groaned. "No pregnancy diets! Zuko has this long, stupid list of things I can and can't eat…" She produced the latest list. She'd already thrown it out five times that day, but somehow, _someone_ was slipping it back onto her person unnoticed.

Damn Zuko's sexy ninja skills. Apparently, her husband didn't want her to forget what was expected of her.

Gran read through the list and frowned. "Oh, pish, this is ridiculous." The old woman crumpled the list up and tossed it in the fireplace.

A beam of hope spread through Katara's chest. Finally! Someone who agreed with her! But then Gran said, "Those won't do you any good…especially if you're going to have a _Waterbender…_"

Hope died a quiet death in her heart as her grandmother started listing out the things Katara would have to eat to produce a strong son of the Water Tribe. A strangled noise of frustration rose from Katara's tight throat. She didn't care _what_ she had, as long as the baby was healthy and happy. That everyone and their hog-monkey wanted some hand in "making" this child infuriated her. She wasn't a factory—they couldn't customize the baby like a war balloon!

"…Turtle-seal Jell-o, and three cups of koalatter blood every day," the old woman was saying. "And you need to stay off your feet—you don't want to jostle the baby too much!"

"And no Waterbending!" Pakku insisted. "You'll make the baby moody like the tides if you agitate him too much!"

Arnook popped out of nowhere to add his two cents. "And keep out of the sun! It will make the child's blood too hot."

"And whatever you do," Bato piped in, _"Don't talk to Momo."_

"What?" Bewildered, the Waterbender asked, "Why?"

"Well, obviously because talking to flying lemurs will make the baby silly."

The others nodded their heads in grave agreement.

"Listen to your elders, Katara," her father intoned sagely as the others commiserated over their various pregnancy stories. "They know what's best for the baby..."

As if she could avoid hearing them or their nonsensical advice as she stormed out with the whole Water Tribe delegation _following_ her, berating her for walking, slouching, frowning, swearing, kicking things and not eating enough because obviously she was too thin, and did she think making a baby was a joke and didn't she want to be a good mother and give her child the best start possible?

Katara bit her tongue, refraining from whipping out the contents of a nearby flower vase at her self-appointed babysitters. _Of course_ she wanted to listen to her elders, please them, and produce a happy, healthy baby. And _of course_ she respected Water Tribe traditions. But could the guilt or pressure possibly get _any_ worse?

A blur of movement passed in front of her eyes and she felt the ghostly brush of an all-too-familiar hand across her chest as a new copy of the Firebender's pregnancy diet was tucked into her breast band. She withdrew the list and stared at it angrily.

Damn that sexy ninja husband of hers!

* * *

**Not talking to monkeys/lemurs courtesy of HeavenlyMaron. Seriously, a lot of this old wives' stuff is real Chinese pregnancy crap that I swear is just made up. No bananas--your kid will be yellow (at which point I raise my hand and say "uhh...I'm already yellow..."). No watermelon--too cold. No snake meat--it'll make the baby scaly. You eat lots of pigs feet and chicken/ginseng/wine soup. And eggs. Lots and lots of eggs.  
**


	21. Return of the Prodigals

* * *

**Return of the Prodigals**

* * *

When the ex-Fire Lord and Fire Matron returned to Fire Nation royal palace, it was with little fanfare and much trepidation. Ozai was still seen as very much the unstable power-hungry tyrant he'd been before he was overthrown. But it seemed a year traveling with his no-longer-estranged wife had settled him some—he followed docilely behind Ursa, carrying her numerous overstuffed bags.

"No, no," she told the servants who rushed to help, beaming at her husband, "Ozai's my big, strong man. Aren't you, Ozai?"

He simpered and nodded his meek agreement, eyes glinting with deadly affection.

After settling in, the whole clan gathered in one of the sitting rooms. As a precaution, Iroh made sure all hot liquids and sharp objects were removed from the premises beforehand.

Not that it would have made a difference if violence erupted...Firebending and all.

Zuko both dreaded and relished his parents' return. On the one hand, he wasn't eager to have his father under his roof once more, and had entertained thoughts of throwing him back into his lavish cell in the dungeon. On the other, he'd done a lot of good for the nation in the year since his wedding, and was eager to share his achievements and good news now that he had an heir on the way.

Maybe Dad would even congratulate him...

Of course, Azula had an heir on the way, too. And though she'd been the one who'd initially requested that her parents come home, she was now uncertain and a little aprehensive of how they'd react to the news.

The thing was, the letter Iroh had sent off to his sister-in-law had only hinted at _a_ pregnancy—Ursa had correctly assumed her son's wife had finally gotten with child, and for that, she was grateful. But the revelation at this meeting came as somewhat of a shock. She'd heard the rumors on her way into the Fire Nation, but only now, gazing at her gray-faced, browbeaten daughter, did she give in to her surprised dismay.

"You're pregnant." Ursa's tone was flat and remote.

Azula stared at her feet, scuffing one toe along the floor. "I didn't plan on it…"

"Obviously!" Ozai snapped, throwing his hands in the air. He sat forward, frowning, anger curling his lips as he prepared to go on; but in the next moment, he deflated, his words stopped up his throat, and he sat back, confounded, blinking back his disbelief.

"It was an accident!" The words were wrenched from her broken soul and everyone could hear the exasperation and dismay behind the princess's admission. Azula didn't _have_ accidents: she had well-intentioned, fate-disrupted plans. Still, she drew herself up like a true princess, chin jutting mulishly. "But it's _my _baby, and I'm going to keep him. No one can tell me otherwise!"

Pride and sympathy lit Ursa's eyes. "Of course, sweetheart." She got up and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "It'll be fine. You'll be okay."

Folded in her mother's embrace, Azula lost all composure. "Oh, mom..." she sobbed, gobbling up the crumbs of affection scattered to her, "I know I'll be with you here…"

Zuko watched the mother-daughter drama from the sidelines, standing with his uncle and the four members of his sister's harem—the four potential fathers who'd been processing the news for the past few days.

"Hey, Mom, you know, Katara's pregnant, too," he chimed in brightly. "And she's being a good girl and resting in bed and everything. Just like she's supposed to."

"Hmm? Oh, that's nice." Ursa was hugging the princess, not really paying any attention to her son.

The young Fire Lord huffed. "This is complete donkey-bull," he muttered. "_Azula always lies._ Doesn't anyone else in this place remember that?"

"Hey, give her a break," Sokka snapped. "She's obviously upset."

"I didn't think you cared," Haru remarked sharply. His tone was deadpan, but a threat vibrated beneath it, the tremor a prelude to greater upheaval. His eyes narrowed minutely at Sokka.

"I don't… I mean, I _do,_ but—" Sokka clamped his mouth shut to keep from jamming his foot any farther in.

"Huh. It's not like she cares back, anyhow," Jet chimed in, shrugging his shoulders languidly. "I mean, who has she _really_ cared about among all of us?"

"Guys, keep it down," Aang whispered nervously. "Ozai's looking our way."

"He's trying to figure out which of us is the father." Jet smiled and waved to the ex-Fire Lord.

Ozai cut his eyes at him, unimpressed. He didn't wave back.

"You better hope he doesn't figure it out," Iroh said in warning. "My brother is not the forgiving type, and now his precious prodigy daughter has been, how do I put this..." he tugged his beard thoughtfully _"...knocked up."_

"You know, Mom, Katara and I are thinking about naming our child Ursaka if it's a girl," Zuko declared loudly, still trying to recapture his moment of glory, now slipping away from him like so much sand through his fingers.

His mother shushed him with a wave.

"Well, Zuko," dear old Dad drawled, lips pulling up in a sneer, "I never thought you had it in you."

"Neither did I," came the simultaneous chorus from the harem. The four young men blinked at each other.

"Let me be the first to say congratulations." Ozai's leer broadened, sending a chill through the room. "I do hope Katara carries to term."

Zuko glowered at him as Ozai sat back and went on. "Isn't this exciting? Why, I remember the days when I was eager to be a father for the first time, too…" A wistful look stole across his face, but it was quickly blotted out by a dark shadow. He sighed heavily. "Let's just hope you're not as disappointed as I was."

"Ooh, diss," Jet snickered.

"Really, Ozai," Iroh remarked, sipping from his travel mug, "I would think that you'd be happy about becoming a grandfather."

Zuko's father scowled. "I'm not a grandfather yet," he snapped.

Iroh's face bloomed with nostalgic mischief as he went on, "All the toys you'll get to buy your grandchildren, all the places you'll take them out to... Remember how I used to take Zuko and Azula out to Ember Island? Ah, those were the days…" His eyes clouded with sadness. "Me, I can't wait to have little ones running around the palace again, making mischief and wrecking up the joint..."

"I'd think Aang does enough of that on his own already," Haru grumped.

"Hey!" The Avatar had never heard the Earthbender act so grouchy before. What was his deal?

"You're just jealous that I'll get to be a grandfather while all my hair is still black," Ozai said airily. A melodramatic look of shock lit his face. "Oh, that's right! You won't ever _be_ a grandfather because _your son's dead._"

Everyone within a hundred miles winced.

"Too far," Jet mumbled.

But Iroh looked unperturbed. "At least I don't _lie_ about dyeing my gray roots."

"Oooh, comeback!" the freedom fighter whooped.

Ozai looked angry. "Well, at least I'm not a fat, old has-been general who's living off his nephew!"

The Dragon of the West lifted a brow. "And that would make you…?"

"Whoop-pah!" Jet crowed. "You got served!"

Cold blue fire engulfed the room, lashing around the squabbling men.

"Would you children take your stupid bickering outside!" Ursa blasted, a blue inferno raging in her eyes and lighting up a demonic halo around her. Everyone shrank back at her vehemence. "Your negative energy is affecting my grandchild!"

The men tucked tails and scurried out.


	22. Welcome to the Club

* * *

**Welcome to the Club**

* * *

Zuko was very satisfied now that his wife's pregnancy had been confirmed. She was due next spring—the perfect time to be presenting the heir to the crown to his subjects.

But Iroh seemed pensive. He watched his nephew with that speculative eye that always made the Fire Lord a little anxious.

"What?" Zuko finally asked him, exasperated. "Why are you following me around and staring at me like I'm about to sprout a horn or something?"

The old general folded his hands into those wide, mysterious sleeves. "I'm just waiting for it to hit you."

"Hit me?" Zuko was confused.

His uncle sighed. "You'll know when it does." His eyes gleamed and his grin broadened. "And I wouldn't miss that moment for the world."

_Crazy old man, _Zuko thought. Maybe dementia was finally settling in.

The days progressed just like that, Iroh flowing in Zuko's wake like a pilot fish at a shark's underside. The young Fire Lord had no idea what the old man was waiting for…

And then it happened.

Zuko was reviewing a battle plan the peace delegates—now turned into war delegates—had devised for the oncoming attack on _Fadmon._ He didn't know what triggered it, but he was absently thinking about his lovely wife and how he'd been itching to touch her when…

"Calm down, Zuko." Iroh was there, laughter stamped all over his features. "Try to breathe."

Hyperventilating, the Firebender clutched at his temples. "She's going to have a baby! A baby! _My_ baby!"

"Yes. Yes, she is." His uncle patted his back.

"I-I'm going to be a…a _father!_"

Iroh grinned. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"_What the hell do I know about fatherhood?!"_ Zuko screamed, grabbing his uncle by the collar.

"Absolutely _nothing,_" Iroh assured him. And from those magical sleeves, he produced a gourd of rice whiskey and handed it over.

Zuko snatched the vessel and took a long, bracing draught of the fiery liquid, seeking the comfort of oblivion.

Iroh patted his back. "Welcome to the club, my nephew."


	23. Misery Loves

* * *

**Misery Loves…**

* * *

Katara was genuinely concerned for Azula. Obviously, the princess was having a much more difficult pregnancy than she was.

With the coming of the baby, her mothering instincts were now magnified ten-fold, so she did what came naturally to her and sought out her sister-in-law.

"Azula?" She knocked on the door to her suite. "Princess, are you in there?"

"Go. Away."

"Oh, come on. You can't stay in there forever…" She remembered what the princess had told her weeks ago about stuffy rooms. "You don't want to smell like feet, do you?"

She heard slippered footsteps shuffling towards the door. It cracked open.

Katara frowned at the pale face poking through the door. "Azula…" And then she caught a whiff. "AUGGGHHH, you smell like feet!"

"It's that tea Uncle keeps feeding me," the princess moaned, her face turning an unbecoming shade of green. "I can't seem to hold anything else down. Nothing I want to hold down, anyhow."

"Well, that's about to change. Come with me. We're going to gorge ourselves on pregnant lady food."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Azula warned. "I tried to order some watermelon, and Cook sent up a big steaming bowl of pigs' feet."

Katara tilted her head. "I thought you liked pigs' feet?" Katara liked pigs' feet. Just thinking about it made her crave them.

"But I wanted _watermelon._" Azula pouted. "Normally I'd fry the cook alive for disobeying me, but I don't want to upset the baby…" She rubbed her hands over her stomach, and a strange look of motherly concern lined her normally wrinkle-free face. "I guess he means well, but I love watermelon…"

"Then watermelon you shall have!" The Waterbender clasped her hands and pulled her through the door. "Come on!"

She dragged her sister-in-law through the palace, weaving through the vast corridors until they came to a smaller chamber—one of the rarely used sitting rooms in the north wing.

When they got inside, Toph awaited them…as did a buffet of the most sumptuous foods either of the women had ever laid eyes on.

"Watermelon!" Azula salivated at the perfect slices of ruby-red fruit dripping with fragrant juice. Her eyes grew huge at the sight of other things that, for the first time in days, actually tempted her palate. "Roast hog-rat…spiced hairy jellyfish…pickled sea prunes…" She didn't even know she liked sea prunes until that moment.

Toph grinned. "All for my two favorite ladies," she said. "Consider this my gift to you."

"But…how?"

"Turns out this room is directly over the royal pantry," the Earthbender said. She opened up a small spyhole in the ground so they could have a look and sure enough, a waft of cold air and the barrels and shelves of produce they saw proved her correct.

"That's not all," Katara added, leading Azula to the opposite corner of the room. "I talked with Iroh, and he mentioned you'd been looking for a companion…" She swept a curtain away to reveal of basket of newborn…

"KITTIES!" Azula fell to her knees, nausea forgotten, and buried her face in the soft abundance of wispy fur frolicking and mewling around the giant wicker cat bed.

Katara and Toph smiled. Though Azula's new spectrum of moods and emotions was somewhat unnerving, even the stoutest heart would melt at the sight of the mercurial princess buried in kittens. She'd climbed into the basket with them, letting them nip at her ears, claw at her flesh and tug on her normally perfect hair. Laughter bubbled up from deep down in her withered soul, the sound harsh and metallic.

"Ooh, you two really are the best friends a girl could have!" And her smile dimmed then. "Mai and Ty Lee never did anything like this for me…"

"That's because they were evil," Toph said offhand. "I mean, under your influence and all…"

Azula's eyes watered. Her lips trembled. A noisy sob came up as a hiccup.

"Oh…ohhh…" Huge tears flowed down her cheeks. "It's true! I _am _a monster!" Her bawling began in earnest. "No wonder they deserted me! Oh, Spirits, how am I ever going to make a good mother?!"

Just then, one of the kittens, a lean, long-limbed, blue-gray creature, stepped out from the corner from where he'd been observing his playful brethren and the pregnant ladies. Serene and serious, with the most disapproving scowl on his feline face and an almost human look of pity in his dark eyes, the cat—for it was far too mature and world-weary to be anything other than a young cat with an old soul—placed himself in front of the princess and gazed up inquisitively into her face.

With eerily human compassion, the cat lifted a paw and gently patted her knee, as if to say, "There, there, princess, it'll be all right."

The girls watched this play out, fascinated.

Azula stared at the cat in wonder. Then she scooped him up and crushed him to her breast.

"This is the one!" she cried triumphantly, tears drying. "He's perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

Katara feared for the cat's life. He was squirming, clawing ineffectually at the princess's bosom, his muzzle buried somewhere…in there.

Ugh.

"Uh…Azula…breathing is important to all animals…"

"Kisu!" she said, holding the cat away to gaze lovingly at him. "Your name is _Kisu._"

Kisu meowed despondently when she kissed him on the nose, and he swiped at his muzzle in disdain.

"You'll be my baby until my other baby comes," she cooed, tickling his tummy. "I'm going to practice all my mothering skills on you!"

Kisu looked to Katara and Toph for help, but they grinned uselessly at him.

"Aw, wookit im! He's sooooo cute!" Katara burbled.

"And he sounds like a happy kitty," Toph said. "His heart is pitter-pattering like crazy! He must really like you."

"You are my specialist, weshalist wittle kitty-bum," Azula gleefully cuddled him. "I will love you and squeeze you and hug you and stroke your furry wittle nosie…"

Kisu let out a defeated meow.

_This,_ the cat thought unhappily, _is not what I signed up for._


	24. Flags of Our Fathers

* * *

**Flags of Our Fathers**

* * *

With the announcement of the princess's pregnancy, speculations ran high…as did the list of potential fathers. People Azula had never seen before came out of the woodwork, banking on the princess's reputation for being fast and loose, proclaiming their part in the making of the royal baby.

But no one was fooled by these fakers. Despite being somewhat of a deviant, Azula was extremely selective when it came to the people who shared her bed.

That meant there were really only four candidates.

Jet was, perhaps, the most vocal of the harem.

"Of course the baby's mine," he declared loudly to anyone who'd listen. "Azula and I are in love. Only love can create a baby. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" He slung an arm around the grey-faced princess. She wasn't happy with anyone touching her these days. Instead, most of her attention and pent-up affection was lavished upon her new animal companion. It was an arrangement Kisu the cat was not impressed with.

In private, Jet would tenderly expound on his fathering abilities. "I'm an orphan, darling. I know what it's like to be alone." He put on his most benign look, eyes glittering with sparkly moisture. "I'd make sure Junior would never feel abandoned. He'd get all the love and hugs and rough 'n' tumble a growing boy needs…"

"Or girl," Azula cut in.

"What?"

"We don't know if it'll be a boy or a girl."

Jet tossed his head. "I only make boys, sugarcakes. Big, strong strapping ones, like me."

Azula socked the Freedom Fighter in the jaw before fleeing in a flurry of senseless tears.

Despite evidence to the contrary, wildly fluctuating hormones weren't the only cause of the princess's misery. The truth was, Azula honestly didn't know who the father was. She wasn't even sure how far along her pregnancy had progressed, and the doctors' estimates did nothing to clarify her child's paternity.

Her insecurity in this matter only made her cry more and harder. Never had she felt so alone and so vulnerable. That so many people were willing to take advantage of her in this state only magnified her anxiety to un-Azula-ish proportions.

Her father, of course, had his own take on the situation.

"Daughter, you must claim the child belongs to the Avatar," he insisted in that malevolent drawl Azula had once admired and sought to imitate. "Allying yourself with Avatar Aang will put you in a position of power over your worthless brother—"

"I don't care about power!" she snapped at him. "I just want my baby to have a father!"

"And what better father than the Avatar?" he soothed. "Aang is a wonderful…uh…" He peeked over at the monk, currently balancing a chair on his chin while dancing on an airball for a group of peace—er, war—delegates. "That is, Aang would be very…_sympathetic_ to the child." He acted enough like one himself, after all.

"_Zuko_ is the leader of the Fire Nation," Azula told him sharply. "His job is to lead our nation to glory. _My job_ will be to raise my child." She cut him a scathing look. "I know my destiny now is to be a mother—and I'll be a far better parent than you _ever_ were!" She flung herself away from her conniving father and pelted out.

Ozai sighed. He'd need to take a different tack if he was to secure any of his former power.

* * *

"Me? No, no, no, no, I don't think it could be me." Aang grinned sheepishly up at his ex-nemesis, scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't really part of her…um…harem. I was just there for moral support."

Until Toph came to visit, but no one needed to know that.

"But you must be fond of my daughter, yes?" Ozai pressed. "She's beautiful, intelligent, and an extremely powerful bender, as you're very well aware."

"Yeah." Aang grimaced, the scar on his back tingling. "I know that."

"Understand that I have a great deal of..._respect _for you, Avatar, and that, well, Azula is a…delicate creature, despite her diamond-hard exterior. Couldn't you see into your heart to cherish and maybe even—" Ozai swallowed back his gorge "—_love_ her and her spawn…I mean, baby?"

Aang stared, jaw slack.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

* * *

On the other side of the palace, another talk of a similar nature was taking place.

"It wasn't me!"

Hakoda stared his son down, not sure whether or not to believe the boy. Sokka was, after all, a notorious lady killer, and he wouldn't put it past the boy to seduce the princess of the Fire Nation despite their history.

But none of that mattered in the political light of things.

"Sokka, listen to me." He gripped his shoulders. "Our family has been presented an extraordinary opportunity. If Princess Azula is carrying your child—"

"She's not!" Sokka screamed, tearing at his hair. "Why won't anyone believe me?"

"Sokka, the Fire Nation killed your mother!" Hakoda exclaimed harshly. "They nearly wiped us out! Don't you see? You can ensure it'll never happen again!"

The younger man stared. "Have you gone insane?" he asked in a strained voice. "What does any of this have to do with Mom?"

The Southern chief sat down with a heavy sigh. "Try to understand, Sokka. Blood is thicker than water. With Katara as the Fire Lady and you as the Prince Consort, the Fire Nation can't ever again pick a fight with the Southern Water Tribe—or the northern one, for that matter, since Gran-Gran is from the north.

"Don't you see? A generation from now, and every generation after that, the royal line will be seeded with Water Tribe blood! The Fire Nation would never attack the homeland of their rulers' ancestors." His eyes glowed with blue fire. "We would be safe forevermore! We could achieve now what the Avatar's been trying to accomplish for centuries! Everlasting peace! And all _you_ have to do is claim to be the father of Azula's baby."

Sokka rubbed his temples. "Dad, this is crazy. I've never had any kind of relations with Azula. She'll confirm it."

"Will she? From palace gossip, the two of you aren't even speaking. Regardless of the truth, people make up their own stories, their own version of reality. Don't you think it'd be better for you to take control of the situation?" Hakoda implored. His eyes softened then. "You care about Azula, don't you?"

Sokka grumbled something.

"Sokka?"

"She's my sister-in-law," he returned flatly. "It's my duty to care."

But his words were no answer.

* * *

Of course, there was one last candidate. But no one encouraged him to step up as the father—he had no ambition to become the Prince Consort, and no one thought the simple Earthbending peasant would really be a worthy partner to the princess and father to an heir to the crown.

Too preoccupied with her pregnancy, Azula had stopped seeking him. Hell, she paid more attention to that damned cat. The palace servants all gave him strange, contemplative looks. Jet, Aang and Sokka had ceased communications with him. And whenever Ozai passed him in the halls, he could've sworn the man had reached out to touch his hair…possibly to set it on fire.

He knew he'd never really been welcome in the palace. The current Fire Lord obviously disliked him. Everyone else just tolerated him because of his position in the harem.

He'd never been anything more than a boy-toy. A plaything.

So Haru did what he thought any honorable man in his position would do.

He packed his bags and quietly left the palace.


	25. The Long War

* * *

**The Long War**

* * *

The meeting room doors slammed open. "He's gone!"

Zuko looked up, startled to see his sister standing in the doorway, clutching a blue-grey cat, huge tears standing in his eyes. "Who's gone?" he asked warily.

"Haru! Oh, Zuko, why would he leave me?" She burst into tears, great, heaving sobs racking her. The cat protested angrily when she blew her nose in its fur. "Am I that ugly now? Have I gotten that fat? I didn't pay enough attention to him, did I? Oh, he must hate me!"

"Uh, your Majesty," Bumi stood, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "if this is not a good time, perhaps we should adjourn our meeting…"

Zuko refused to allow yet more interruptions to his planning for the coming war, especially not from his pregnant, hormonal sister. He didn't understand why his mother was letting her run amok like this—why couldn't Azula take a page from Katara's book and rest?

Not that his wife was actually resting.

"Gentlemen, please, stay seated. I'll resolve this shortly." He grabbed Azula by the arm and dragged her to the corner. Finicky as ever, Kisu took offense to the way Zuko was manhandling his mistress, despite all the abuse the cat suffered under her care, and took a swipe at the Firebender.

The young Fire Lord scowled. "Keep that thing on a leash, will you?" he hissed, "and stop barging in on my war councils! If you're not going to contribute, then do us all a favor and just keep away!"

"War meeting? Oh, no, I forgot!" Azula smacked her forehead. "I got the invitation, but then Haru left…" Her lip trembled, and fresh tears floated into her glassy gaze.

"No more crying," he snapped. "Take your tears, your wallowing and your cat outside."

But Azula had never been one to listen to her brother. She dashed her tears away and straightened her spine. "No," she hiccuped, and pursed her lips. "You're right. No more crying." She set her jaw and tipped her chin up. "I'm the princess," she reminded herself staunchly, "and I should act like one."

She headed for the table.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I made a promise to you," Azula told him. "You brought Mom and Dad home, so now I'm going to be your war tsar. Remember the deal we struck?"

"B-but…what about the baby?" Zuko was horrified. These past few weeks, Azula had been…well, there were about a thousand synonyms for "moody" he could have used, but _wolf-bat-shit insane_ was the one that came to mind. Agni, she couldn't lead a row of turtle-ducklings to a pond, much less an army to war.

His sister snorted. "Oh, pshaw, Zuzu. For centuries, women in the rice fields have been having babies in the mud and dirt, slinging them over their teats and going straight back to work afterwards. Being a princess, I'll bounce back ten times as fast!"

A vein pulsed at his temple. "This isn't a rice paddy! This is war!"

"And I'm going to make sure you run it _properly,_" she said primly.

She greeted the mostly male congregation with all the regal air she could muster. The delegates rose and bowed respectfully—and a little apprehensively—to her as she sat down at Zuko's right. The Fire Lord didn't want to delay this meeting any longer, so he sat down, as well.

Azula smiled widely, making everyone's skin crawl, and asked sweetly, "Now, if someone will bring me up to speed…"

They did, not underestimating her ability to understand their battle plans for a moment. Numbers and strategies and statistics and even more numbers were thrown at her as they gave her the hard-facts rundown of the campaign they'd planned thus far. Azula absorbed it all in that calm, calculating way of hers, nodding slightly as she moved the pai sho tiles around her brain. As she processed the data, she stroked Kisu rhythmically with a slender, crimson-tipped fingers, head to tail, sleeking his gunmetal coat until it gleamed in the firelight. The cat purred begrudgingly.

"…And with aerial support from our remaining war balloons, we estimate the casualties will be few and superficial," Admiral Jee finished for them. The gray-haired man who'd been Zuko's lieutenant all those years ago had been moving up the ranks quite quickly, she'd noticed.

Mildly, Azula asked, "And what color are we painting the balloons?"

"Uh…color?" Everyone stared blankly at her.

"I was thinking something neutral." The princess tickled Kisu's chin ponderously. "Perhaps a sunny pastel yellow. Green would be nice, but…"

But it reminded her of Haru, and her mouth pursed tightly. She swallowed down the tears misting her eyes and looked up at the delegation again. "Forgive me, I was thinking about the good old days back in Ba Seng Se."

The Earthbenders glanced sidelong at each other.

"I don't think the color of the balloons matters that much, Azula," Zuko said, a patient warning lighting his eyes. "Deployment along the western coast—"

"Of course it's important!" She surged to her feet, nearly dumping the cat, but managing to scoop him up midair before he bounced against her knees. The princess threw a fervent glare across the room. "Do you want the soldiers to become depressed by all the black and red everywhere? This is a war, not a morgue!"

She stared around her then as if suddenly seeing her dour black-and-red surroundings for the first time. Everything was the color of death and bloodshed here! What kind of place was this to raise a child…uh, army?

She frowned deeply. "No, none of this will do at all! We need light and color! We need to inspire our troops! This is a coalition effort, and we need to market it as such. This is a new war against a foe we can't even localize!" She shot a fireball at scrolls of plans on the table, setting them all ablaze. "Draw up the plans again!" she declared. "I want nothing but perfection!"

And with that, she swept out of the meeting room, leaving slack jaws in her wake.

"I must apologize for my sister," Zuko said after counting to twenty. "She hasn't been herself lately…"

"Actually, I agree with her assessment," Arnook said. "We should refit the troops with new uniforms and repaint all the heavy machinery. This is a global effort, after all. We should march under one flag and act as a united nation."

"Orange!" Bumi exclaimed. "We should paint everything orange, with white stripes and green polka dots…"

As they argued over a color scheme, Zuko slowly sat down and buried his face in his hands, wondering when life had decided he deserved this torment.


	26. Homefronts

* * *

**Homefronts**

* * *

They called it a "nesting" instinct—but Azula being Azula, she couldn't confine the impulse to her room and nursery. Hell, she'd remake the world for her baby if it weren't such an exhausting prospect.

So the princess settled for redecorating the entire palace. Not that anyone could have stopped her…

Except for that _other_ pregnant lady in the palace, of course.

"Lavender," Katara insisted between gritted teeth, tugging on the design plans between her and her sister-in-law, "is a much more soothing color."

"But yellow inspires happiness," Azula returned with a malicious grin, gaining another centimeter on the blueprints. "You want _happy_ babies, don't you?"

Aang, being the Avatar, had the temerity to intervene. "Why don't you guys just paint everything white?"

The daggers from the women's twin glares crucified him instantly.

* * *

Unable to agree on anything, they each got half the palace for their nesting project, a painted line down the middle of the main building demarking the limits of their influence.

But the forces of fire and water rarely obeyed boundaries, painted on or not.

Katara would surreptitiously order a swath of gauzy silver-starred tulle to encroach upon Azula's side of the palace. In retaliation, Azula would set the fabric alight and have the Dai Li pin up her own scheme of gold-striped silk…which Katara would then ruin with an "accidental" washing.

Soon, it became an all-out war.

It was a close fight. Katara, being the Fire Lady, had the entire palace staff under her command. But Azula had the stealthy, efficient and utterly loyal Dai Li; and being the infinitely more frightening matron of the two, she managed to conscript anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path into her sunny-yellow cause.

"Yellow, like the sun…like Agni," she was often heard murmuring, backed by Kisu's miserable yowls as she petted him just a little too fervently. The princess's eyes shone with zealousness. "My little baby will be happy and healthy and smiley…not some stick-in-the-mud wet-blanket bore." She cut her eyes toward the purple border.

"Not that I don't think that's a bad thing, pooky-bear," Jet drawled, applying yet another coat of paint to the wall of the nursery, deliberately flecking his bared chest with sexy, xanthic splotches to (unsuccessfully) snare Azula's attention, "but you've been at this for almost two months. You guys need to stop this decorating war before it gets out of hand."

She whirled on him, thunder in her face. "Who asked _you?_"

He shrugged deeply. "I'm just saying because I care."

Azula cared, too! Didn't anyone see that?

* * *

Meanwhile, Katara and Zuko—well, mostly Katara—were trying to choose a painting from the palace gallery to place in the nursery—a focal point for the room that would draw the eye and tie the froufrou purply color scheme together. Not that they would have found anything with a relieving trace of blue, purple or, spirits forbid, white in it.

"Why is everything in this country red and gold and black? Don't any of the artists in the Fire Nation paint something other than doom and gloom portraiture?" Katara asked in exasperation, scowling at the enormous floor-to-ceiling painting of Fire Lord Sozen.

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually…no."

The Waterbender tapped her chin. "Maybe I should commission someone to do something for the baby's room. I'm sure royal patronage would give them a little inspiration."

Zuko mentally tallied the costs of all the decorations and furniture the soon-to-be mothers had racked up so far, then added the hefty sum for patronizing a house artist. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a quiet sigh.

It was times like these he remembered Uncle Iroh's advice:

"Just nod and smile, Zuko. That's all you have to do to keep your wife happy. No, seriously, keep her happy, or you'll never hear the end of it."

He clenched his teeth together in a manic grin and vigorously nodded to Katara.

The Waterbender beamed. "You're the best Fire Lord husband ever." She kissed the tip of his nose and waddled away, the picture of roly-poly motherhood.

"Whoop-ah, Sparky," Toph chuckled, appearing out of nowhere. "You've got it _so_ bad."

He grumped. "I don't see _you _taking sides in this stupidity. How'd you manage that?"

Toph shrugged. "What can I say? I'm trained in the art of awesome—" she paused, "seeing" something approaching, and grinned "—and avoidance."

And with that, she folded her arms across her chest and was swallowed up by the ground, just as Azula rounded the corner.

"Zuzu! I need more money!"

Zuko sincerely wished then he'd been born an Earthbender.


	27. Duty

* * *

**Duty**

* * *

Honor and duty were two of the Fire Nation's most revered virtues. Family was also pretty high up on the list…though these values could hardly be attributed to the royal family.

Still, because she was a member of the Water Tribe and had a strong sense of family, Katara found herself playing the "good daughter" to her in-laws. Her pregnancy was an initiation of a kind, the proverbial trial by fire to assure Ozai and Ursa that she was a worthy woman to carry on the royal line.

Not that she actually _needed_ their approval. But some tiny modicum of her pride required it. Katara wasn't used to people disliking her, after all.

"More tea, Mother?"

Ursa nodded and allowed Zuko's wife to pour a perfect cup in exactly the way a lady of the Fire Nation should. Iroh's hand had probably figured in that.

"We have servants to do that kind of thing, you know," Ozai sneered. "You don't need to bring yourself to the level of a servant. You _are_ the Fire Lady after all." Ridicule and scorn underscored his words.

But Ursa, because she liked to remind her errant husband of his place, argued, "I think it's sweet of Katara to be performing this simple pleasure for us, Ozai. After all, Azula never poured tea for us."

Ozai uttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nuthin'." He pouted.

Ursa ignored him. "We really haven't had much time to get to know one another, have we, Katara?"

The Waterbender smiled faintly. "I guess not." And she'd been quite satisfied, too. What newlywed woman wanted her mother-in-law hanging around the house?

"Tell me," Ursa sat back, inspecting her nails—a mannerism only Azula could have pulled off with the same disquieting effectiveness, "how are your sexual relations with my son?"

Ozai spit his tea out across the room in a fine spray.

"Um, excuse me?"

"Relations." Ursa's auric eyes snapped to her face. "The sex."

"Not listening," Ozai said, and promptly covered his ears. "La, la, la, la…"

Katara felt her cheeks burning. "Uh…they're…fine?"

"I ask because…well, I had the most wretched time when I was carrying Zuko," Ursa reminisced. "The hormones had me hotter than a moose-lioness in heat. And, being in the Fire Nation, I don't think I need to tell you just how hot it can get."

"Uh…you don't?"

"My poor Ozai nearly broke his hips trying to satisfy me. I was ravenous." She beamed at the man in question.

"I know you're talking about me, but I'm still not listening…" Ozai sang, eyes squeezed shut, hands still over his ears as he paced the far end of the room.

Zuko's mother stroked her chin. "Perhaps, being of the Water Tribe, you don't feel your…urges…as keenly." She smiled indulgently. "Though from what I hear, you're a wild child in bed. I wouldn't be surprised if you broke Zuko—he always was a little delicate." An envious look slid silkily toward Katara. "I suppose being a Waterbending helps curb some of that pent-up lust. I have a good imagination for what you can do with ice cubes and water jets…."

As her mother-in-law went embarrassingly on, it was Katara's turn to wish for an Earthbending talent—all she wanted was to crawl under a rock and die.


	28. Look Who's Talking

* * *

**Look Who's Talking**

* * *

"Zuko."

"Not now," the Fire Lord gritted from his desk, not looking up.

But the voice was insistent. _"Zuko."_

He'd had enough interruptions. The plans for the invasion were being bogged down by all the stupidity and distractions swirling around the palace. "This better be important because—"

He bit off his words at the sight of his scowling, round-bellied wife.

"It is." Her eyes narrowed. "You've been holing up in your office for weeks! Do you even care about me? About the baby?"

Zuko opened his mouth to respond. Of course he cared! He was planning this war to secure their happiness, wasn't he? All of _Fadmon_'s lies, including this "Zutara" thing, had to be stomped out!

But Katara raised a hand to stop the words she seemed able to predict. "I know the war is important to you, but I want the baby to know you, too. And I want you to share this experience with me. I can't carry him all by myself." Her hand smoothed over the roundness of her tummy in big, soothing circles.

"He hasn't even been born yet. What do you expect me to _do?_" he asked irately.

"Walk with me in the garden. Hold me in your arms and tell me you love me and that I'm beautiful, even though I'm as round as a pot-bellied mongoose-beaver. Talk to the baby so it knows your voice." Her voice was deadly quiet. Not pleading or whiny, not complaining or admonishing. It was a simple request from a wife to her husband.

Zuko felt like a complete heel.

He immediately got up from his desk. The look of contrition glittering in his eyes said more than words could, and Katara accepted it with an answering smile.

Taking her hand, they walked out to the turtle-duck pond and sat under a tree, his wife couched in the circle of his arms with one leg on either side of her considerable girth. She tucked her head beneath his chin, and they just sat like that for a good long while.

A breeze sighed through the leafy canopy, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of jasmine and lilac. Zuko felt his muscles unclench and his angry, guilty frown melt from his brow. And as she began humming a lullaby, he suddenly remembered why he'd married Katara.

"Talk to our baby," she said, guiding his hand to the taut curve of her belly. "Tell him about yourself."

Awkwardly, Zuko poised himself above his wife's roundness.

"Uh…hey there…champ," he said to his unborn child. "How's it going?"

No response. Zuko frowned.

"Just tell him about your day, or your family," Katara encouraged, and to his skeptical look, said, "just do it for me."

He leaned a little closer and cleared his throat. "Well, you know how palace life is..." He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, you will know when you're older. I mean, it's not going to be like _my_ childhood—the bad parts, anyhow. It better not be. Wouldn't that just be ironic if it were? Hah…hah…"

He withered under his wife's pained look.

Clearing his throat, he went on. "Your grandmother and grandfather are getting along with everyone here…which is really surprising since Dad was always trying to kill me and stuff." His laughter was brittle. "Try to be nice to him, okay? He's still your grandfather.

"You'll love your great-uncle Iroh. I don't know what to tell you about him except that he's the best uncle in the world…except when he's on an energy tea kick, or is chasing women half his age, or…you know what? You'll meet him and you can decide what you think of him then.

"Your aunt Azula…well, she's just crazy. But she's making a cousin for you to play with, so try to get along." He thought a moment. "Just don't trust him. Or your aunt, for that matter."

"Tell him about the future," Katara murmured, snuggling against her husband, lulled by Zuko's husky voice.

"The war against _Fadmon_ is…" he hesitated "…it's coming along. We should be able to launch the first wave in a month or two." He stopped. "Wait, when are you due?"

Katara's face was blank, but her cobalt eyes glinted with daggers. "In a month or two."

"Oh." Zuko fidgeted and quickly changed topic and addressed the baby. "Your life is going to be great, I promise you that. I'll be here, and your mom will be, too. Except for _Fadmon,_ we don't have any enemies to worry about. You'll be the first royal baby in three generations born during a time of peace. Well, relative peace, anyhow. One day, you'll be the Fire Lord. And you won't have all the crazy problems I had." He paused, and conceded, "Have."

Katara giggled.

"Well, assuming your mom hasn't been eating curry and making you all cranky," he teased. "You haven't, have you?"

"Just a little," Katara admitted sheepishly. "But the baby wanted something spicy."

He grinned. "Maybe he'll be a Firebender after all."

"Oh!" Katara sat up. She grabbed her husband's hand and guided it along the taut curve of her stomach.

Zuko's heart did a backflip as he felt the strong pulse of his child's kick against his palm.

"Oh…oh my…"

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

"The thing about being a bender."

He bent low and whispered to Katara's belly: "You're going to be a great bender."

Kick. Kick. Kick.

Zuko never thought he could be reduced to tears after being kicked by a child.


	29. The Chapter Without A Name

* * *

**The Chapter Without A Name**

* * *

"But why _Dante?_" Katara asked, trying hard to keep the plaintive exasperation from her voice.

"Why _not?_" Zuko countered fervently. "It means 'enduring'. That's apt, isn't it?" His eyes shone.

"Well, I suppose..." she conceded, "but let's just try to think of some other names first, okay?"

"I just wanted something cool," Zuko pouted.

"We'll put it in the 'to be considered' pile." Katara patted his hand placatingly. "Besides, we need to think of girls' names, too."

"Dantella?" Zuko suggested hopefully.

"I was hoping for something a little more…traditional."

He sighed. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to avoid the 'Azu' line of naming. It doesn't seem to work out too well for my family."

She nodded emphatically. "Done and done. Here, we should look through these suggestions from our families and friends."

"What?" Zuko's eyes widened at the box at his wife's feet. "You're kidding me, right?"

"We have to indulge them, at least. I'm not saying we should actually listen to any of them."

Knowing the duty couldn't be avoided, the young Fire Lord tiredly reached for the box. "I bet Azula doesn't have to do this," he muttered.

"Oh, she does," Katara put in, "but you know Azula. I mean, when has anyone ever been able to make a suggestion to her that she'd accept?"

"Is that your way of saying she set her box of baby names on fire?"

"She's gotten more creative, actually. She shredded them up and made toilet paper."

"Damn. Wish I had thought of that."

Katara drew a letter. "Look, here's a list from Aang's old Fire Nation school."

"Wait, he went to a Fire Nation school?"

"Just for a couple of days. Isn't it nice that the children are getting involved?"

"That depends," he peered at the list with a quirk of his lips, "on whether you think 'Swamp Breath Poo-Poo Head' is a good name."

She grimaced. "I'll tell them thanks, but no thanks."

Zuko opened another letter and stared. "How do you feel about 'Kimchi'?"

"We're _not_ accepting suggestions from the Cabbageman," Katara said flatly.

"Wasn't planning on it." He crumpled up the sheet.

"Huh. This one has a kind of funny spelling," Katara said.

"What is it?"

"P-H-U-C Y-U-U."

"Jet," Zuko growled.

"Actually, it's from Song."

"Oh." He plucked the letter from her hand. "I should probably get on returning her ostrich-horse at some point."

"You _still_ haven't paid her back?"

They went through scores of other name suggestions, sorting them into piles of "No," "Hell, no," and "Are you insane?"

It seemed their family and friends all had rather strange ideas or morbid senses of humor. About half of the suggestions were "Li" and the other half were mostly either "Mary Sue" or "Bryke", though that last one seemed to have come from left field. Really, who would name the child of Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara something as ignoble as "Bryke"?

"It's not as though we have to decide right now," Katara assured her frowning husband when they'd nearly emptied the box and had three huge piles of terrible suggestions. "When the baby's born, inspiration will strike. I know a little girl named Hope who was named on the spot after Aang."

"Uh-huh. And maybe we should name our kid 'Destiny' or 'Yinyang' or something equally as dumb." The Fire Lord rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so negative. Here's one last one." She handed the list to him.

Zuko looked at the names, tilting his head in interest as he tested them out loud. "Maiko, Jetko, Toko, Jinko..."

The Fire Lady wrinkled her nose in distaste. "They sound like the names of herbal laxatives."

"I dunno…" He rubbed his neck. "I'm kinda partial to Maiko. It sounds fierce, masculine, devoid of soul—"

Katara's dull, flat stare shut him down.

He sighed. "Fine. Into the 'hell no' pile it goes."

But instead of dropping the list, Zuko surreptitiously pocketed the note. After all, Maiko would make a great name for the two-headed viper-dog he was having bred in the kennels for the imminent attack on _Fadmon._

* * *

**I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself...** 8 D


	30. Physicality

**Sorry I've been away so long, folks! Lots has been happening since the last chapter: **

**1) I'm engaged! My fiance, boyfriend of 8 years, proposed on Aug. 15. I said yes! No date set, but hopefully, something like Til Death Do Us Part will ensue. Well, maybe not so much... **

**2) The inspiration for this story has been born! My nephew, Avery Hendrix, was brought to the world on Aug. 21. He joins his older sister, Bowie, in bringing me crazy ideas and no end to insanity.**

* * *

**Physicality**

* * *

When it came to pregnancy, Katara was hands-down, without a doubt, most definitely the better off of the two royals residing in the palace. Having lived in the isolated and closely-knit Water Tribe community, spending long, dark days and nights among the women and their talk, her exposure to "the condition" meant she knew a lot about what to expect with the changes in her body, knew that the changes were dramatic.

Azula, on the other hand, having never even allowed a pregnant woman to cross her path because she thought they were "unsightly" didn't have a clue what the hell her body was doing to her.

"What in Agni's name is THIS?" she screamed, rubbing furiously at the long, dark brown line running along the centre of her bulbous belly from the naval southward to places left unexplored.

"Relax, Azula," her sister-in-law soothed. "It's normal, see?" Katara parted her maternity robes at the waist to reveal her own markings, though hers were much darker against her tan skin.

"It's _not_ normal! Pregnant women are supposed to be radiant and beautiful and glowing and…and-and-and _pregnant with joy!_" She raked her nails across the meridian on her tummy. "They're NOT supposed to grow arrows down their bellies!"

"What's wrong with arrows?" Aang asked defensively.

The women sent him a withering look, and he retreated to whence he came.

Man, he thought being the Avatar and saving the world would earn him a little respect…

The Waterbender sent her Firebending sister a patient smile. "It's just something that happens. Some women even get dots all over their stomachs. It'll fade…" she paused thoughtfully "…although, on some women it doesn't…"

Azula's yellow eyes went huge._"What!"_

"Call it a badge of honor," Katara amended quickly.

"Badge? As if all these stretch marks won't be enough?" Azula pulled up her shirt even farther to reveal the pale, jagged-looking ribbons of skin encircling her waist. She rolled her palms over her considerable girth, moaning, "And all this weight I've put on…"

"Will disappear soon enough." Katara folded the princess's hand in hers. "Azula, what's important is the baby's health, and so far, your body's doing everything it can to make sure he or she has the best start. It'll all be worth it, trust me."

Tears welled in Azula's eyes and she lowered her chin to her chest to hide her shame. "I just…it's just…" she sniffed "…I want this thing outta me!" she wailed.

Genuine remorse flowed through Katara. Not unpredictably, she empathized more and more with her diabolical sister-in-law with each passing day. Call it hormones.

She squeezed her in-law's shoulder. "Oh, there, there…"

Azula sniveled, "I'm ugly and blotchy, and I'm huge and round like a panda-tortoise…"

"Don't say that. You're beautiful…"

"But none of the men are telling me that!" the princess sobbed.

Katara scowled. And why weren't the men praising Azula's gloriously pregnant beauty? Wasn't that just like a man? Leaving their seeds and then just fluttering off to play their games and plan their wars…

Well, she'd fix this.

* * *

"Zuko!"

The Fire Lord jumped at his wife's piercing screech, causing him to spill his tea across the documents he was reading. He was about to admonish her for barging into his study the way everyone seemed to these days, but was instantly silenced by the stormy look in her blazing eyes.

"Go tell your sister she's beautiful," she commanded. "Right now."

"I…what?"

"Azula needs reassurance. Her body is going through some drastic changes, and her confidence is waning. Go tell your sister she's still beautiful and that if you weren't already married to me, that you'd jump her for sure."

He didn't need to have tea in his mouth to spit it out across the room. It was quite a perplexing feat, given the spray radius and the fact that he hadn't drunk any.

He spluttered, "I am not—"

"And take any man you meet with you, and make them tell her she's gorgeous. In fact, order them to ask her out. That ought to pull her out of her funk." A wicked gleam lit her lightning-blue eyes.

Calmly, Zuko wiped the fine mist of tea away from his lips and gathered his wits. "Katara. I love you. I love that you're trying to take care of my sister, though why my mother isn't around to keep her under wraps—"

"She's busy planning the baby showers," Katara explained shortly. She appealed to her husband, "Zuko, moods are important to the baby's development. And right now, Azula's craziness is affecting _my _mood." A threat vibrated through her words like the distant rumble of thunder. "So for our baby's sake, be a dear and tell her she's hot or something."

As he resignedly hustled out of the room, spurred on by the image of Uncle Iroh advising him to "just smile and nod", Zuko wished he could opt for the "or something." Because there was no way he'd ever go and say something like that to his sister.

* * *

"Wow, Azula, you look hot," he found himself saying thirty minutes later. Katara watched him keenly from behind the sniffling princess. She encouraged him with an eager nod.

The fire princess rubbed at her face. "You don't have to pretend, Zuzu," she mumbled halfheartedly. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes. "I look like a three-ton walrus-bear."

"No, seriously," he went on awkwardly, "you look…uh…" He looked to Katara for help. She was miming something. "Hungry?"

Katara frowned fiercely and repeated the eating motion, biting, chewing and smiling.

"Edible!" Zuko blurted. "You look as edible as…uh…a bowl of fire flakes." It was the first thing that came to mind. He'd been craving them lately.

The cloud over Azula's head darkened. The Fire Lady waved at her husband: _No! No!_

He realized his error. "I mean, not that you look like a big, round bowl or anything. I mean…"

Katara slammed the heel of her hand against her forehead as Azula started wailing again.


	31. Touched

* * *

**Touched**

* * *

Katara could deal with the questions:

"When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl? Do you have a name picked out yet? How long did it take you to conceive? Have you had any morning sickness…?"

Katara could deal with the unwanted advice:

"You should stay off your feet so you don't jostle the baby too much. Eat lots of liver. Sing to yourself more. No, don't sit like _that._ Drink this tea, it's good for the baby…"

It was the _hands_ she couldn't deal with. Reaching, grasping, long, alien, hot-dog fingers stretching out to caress her baby, to pat her round belly, to steal some of her glow, to _touch_ her—

"STOP IT!" She screamed and slapped the hands away as yet another stranger—a palace servant, in fact—flattened a palm over her stomach and rubbed her for "good luck." As she glared at his retreating back, he muttered something about hormones, and it took Katara every ounce of patience she had left not to freeze-dry him on the spot and then drop-kick him into a billion little piece to stomp on.

By Agni, she was the Fire Lady! What happened to the respect and reverence due to her? And where was that jealous, possessive husband of hers when she seriously needed him to tear a few arms off? It was as if pregnancy had made her nothing more than a commodity to be used and enjoyed by everyone else. An oven for the bun. She was still a person, dammit!

"WHY? Why do people think they can just touch me because I'm like this?" she railed. "Do I have the words 'touch me, I'm preggers!' tattooed on my chest? How would they like it if I just randomly came up and put my hands all over their stomachs?"

"You're far too sweet with those offenders," Azula quipped, sounding more like the fire princess Katara used to know. She inspected her nails while still stroking Kisu, perched precariously on her shallow lap. "Me, I've been collecting the pinky fingers of every one who touches me without my permission."

"You… Pinkies?" The Waterbender paled.

"Well, of course. Mother said something about small children enjoying finger painting, so I'm making sure my little one will be well stocked for the activity."

Morning sickness revisited Katara with a vengeance.

Oh, no, wait, it was just regular sickness.

"Want to see the necklace I made of them?" Azula called after Katara as her sister-in-law ran out of the room.


	32. Showered With Love I

**

* * *

Showered with Love I  


* * *

**

A baby shower, Katara explained to her sister-in-law, was a tradition in which female friends and family would lavish a mother-to-be with presents to help celebrate the birth of a child. It wasn't unlike a wedding shower, in which the couple would receive an abundance of gifts that would be quickly exchanged, returned, re-gifted or shoved into some dusty corner of the palace storage, hopefully to be forgotten. (Currently, that corner was occupied by Zuko's twenty-seven Sungi horns.)

"But I'm the princess," Azula reminded her unnecessarily. "What could I _possibly_ need that I can't get for my baby myself?"

Katara smiled knowingly. "You'll see."

Their joint shower was arranged by Ursa and Gran-Gran, who for some mysterious reason got along like fruit pies and lemurs. Apparently, they'd bonded over all the complaining they did about the younger generation not listening to their elders…more specifically, their respective daughter and granddaughter.

"Unlike my Zuzu, who has always heeded and respected me," Ursa confided to the older woman. "He's such a good boy."

"And Sokka's always been more levelheaded about this baby-rearing business, too." Gran-Gran puckered her face sourly. "Why didn't _they_ get married instead?"

Invitations went out, and a month and a half later, the royal tea room was transformed into a beautiful women-only gala. Ladies flocked to the event like butterfly-squirrels to panda lilies, bearing gifts for the royal mothers-to-be.

Outside, the guests streamed in, approaching the palace in gaily-colored streams of silk and taffeta, buoyed by giggles and fits of oohing and ahhing over trifles.

"This is so exciting!" Ty Lee exclaimed as she ascended the steps carrying two large, brightly beribboned boxes wrapped in pink (of course) paper. "I mean, I heard Azula was pregnant but…"

"It's just a baby," Mai said tiredly. Her own gifts were in small, plain boxes she held on the flat of her palm. They were probably a gift certificates. "All they do is drool and poop and eat."

"But they're so adorable!" Ty Lee squealed. "With all those tiny toes and fingers…"

"…That'll gouge out your eyes the first chance they get." Mai scowled…which didn't constitute much of a change in her expression, but there it was. "C'mon, Ty Lee, this is _Azula's_ baby we're talking about. Don't tell me you've already forgotten about the whole locking-us-up-for-doing-the-right-thing episode. She's probably teaching her hellspawn to avenge her honor or something in the womb."

The acrobat pouted. "But we committed treason—"

"Friends don't lock up friends for treason."

"Well…at least she didn't execute us."

"I would have thanked her if she did. Then I wouldn't have to come to this…_thing._"

The last time either of the girls had been in the palace was for the royal wedding. A lot of things had changed, but most remarkable was the strange lavender and yellow color scheme that had divided the main building down the middle. A distinct white line demarcated the boundaries, and the two girls followed it to the grand ballroom.

Strangely, the two colors managed to strike harmony and balance here, giving the place just the right amount of light and serenity with equal proportions of each color dotting the room in fine details like tiny bouquets of silk flowers, ribbons, place cards, tart frosting, linens, and fine china. Such elaborate settings could only have been accomplished by experienced hostesses, of which Ursa and Gran-Gran were in spades.

What an affair! Decked in tea gowns and flashy, girly attire, the women of the world circulated and gave each other air kisses and ginger hugs before flitting on to the next group to talk about hair and makeup and shoes…or weaponry, as was often occasioned. Ty Lee and Mai moved among them, garnering nods and smiles and queer looks. It had been much the same at the wedding, but most of the attention back then had been on the happy couple and their immediate family. No one was that interested in Azula's former peons. (And no one was especially interested in Zuko's former flame, displaced by an obviously more suitable woman. Even Mai agreed with that sentiment!)

(Really! She did!)

"Do you think we should go say hello?" Ty Lee asked, nervously glancing at their former friend.

Mai shrugged. Deep down in the abyss of her hardened heart, apprehension gnawed on her gut—she preferred to think of it as emotional indigestion.

They continued to orbit around the room with Azula at the centre of the ellipse. Slowly, they drew inward like a comet caught in the gravity of a black hole, until inevitably, they were forced to step up onto the dais and greet their hosts.

Azula looked up from a plate of cake. Her face paled and a split second later, went as red as a cherry.

They hadn't known what the reaction would be...but they certainly hadn't expected _this._

"Mai. Ty Lee." She forced a smile on her face that crinkled her brow unattractively. "Hello. Uh…" She looked around, fidgeting. "Ta-da. I'm pregnant." The joke died an impotent death.

(_Not unlike Jet! Zing! _Toph punched herself in the head, wishing the voices would stop.)

"Congratulations, Azula," the acrobat chirruped as she held out her enormous boxes for the attendants to collect. "How's the father holding up?"

Up to that point, Katara had been smiling on, but at that question, her eyes widened and she waved the girls off that line of questioning with big, frantic gestures.

But Azula didn't break out in tears. Her smile just got brighter, her eyes glowing with soft pride. "Oh, well, you know what it's like for new fathers. He's worrying about all kinds of things…diet and exercise and…well, you know. Pregnant lady things." She tugged on a wisp of hair framing her face, a sure sign, Katara knew now, that she was lying. "He…uh…reads to the baby and…sings to him at night. And he…uh…" She made small, encouraging gestures. "You know. Does daddyish things."

Ty Lee beamed in approval. Mai's face was a study in nonreaction. "That's so nice to hear. I mean, I was really worried that you'd be a single mom for your baby…not that you couldn't be a great single mom, but it'd be so hard without someone to share the experience with. Someone to spot you and tell you you're doing okay. Someone who you can trust absolutely will give their lives for the baby's, who'll take him away from you when you need a break. Someone who will never choose between you and the baby, who'll love you both equally, who'll see you as the mother of his child and as their life partner. Someone you can rely on to—"

Azula burst out crying.

Ty Lee shrank back, aghast. "What did I say?"

"C'mon, Ty Lee," Mai muttered, rolling her eyes and dragging the acrobat away by the frilly pink collar. "I see tofu puffs."

"What am I going to do?" Azlua bawled. "The baby's not going to have a father!" Katara gently helped her sister-in-law scrub her eyes after her friends shuffled away. "I'm going to be a single mother. All alone with no one to spot me or help change diapers or…or…or love me…."

"You're not all alone," Katara insisted gently. "And we all...love you." A sour taste flooded her mouth, but the harsh tang made everything seem that much sweeter. She smiled. "You know we love you."

"I'm not just saying this for me," the princess said, her voice low and rasping. "The baby needs a father. Two parents. A fine balance, yin and yang and all that. I mean, look at how Zuko and I turned out with just Dad at the helm!"

"You both turned out fine."

A stare flatter than Meng's chest met Katara's eye.

"I mean, you both turned out fine _in the end._" The Waterbender cleared her throat uncomfortably. "You won't make the mistakes your father made because you care. And you'll have all of us to help you."

"How do you know? How can you possibly be sure?" Azula's eyes filled. "I mean, what if..." She swallowed thickly and averted her gaze, unable to push the words past her lips.

"Tell me, Azula. What are you worried about?"

The princess looked up slowly. "What if the baby turns out to be like _me?_"


	33. Showered With Love II

**

* * *

Showered With Love II

* * *

**

Unbeknownst to the partygoers, the congregation was being watched. Jet surveyed the room through a set of peepholes in the secret priest hole. (Aang and Sokka both knew what a priest hole was…Jet just sniggered in his usually dirty way.) He shifted his weight, and accidentally stepped on Aang's toes. The Avatar yelped, and Sokka slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shh! Do you want us to get girl-beaten?"

"Sorry," Aang whispered back. "But…why weren't we invited to the party? I'm the Avatar."

(That was his non-sequitorial excuse for everything these days. "But I'm the Avatar" was the phrase that directly followed "No, I do not want to eat your fruit pies," "No, you cannot sleep here tonight," and "No, I do not want to see what Momo can do with your staff.")

"This is one of those top-secret girl things," Jet explained, watching the crowd of milling women and salivating just a little at all the pretty things clustered together like pastries in a bakery window. "Y'know when girls go to the bathroom together? Or they have 'girls' nights out'? Well, 'Ladies Only' is code for 'Half-naked Pillow Fight.'"

Aang's eyes glowed. "Really? I love pillow fights!"

"There's Suki!" Sokka exclaimed. Since the royal wedding, they'd had a reconciliation, but when the rumors of his involvement with Azula started circulating, he hadn't heard from the Kyoshian at all. She hadn't even come to the peace—er, _war_ summit.

He had to talk to her. Clear things up.

But it was going to be a long wait.

* * *

The women ate dainty little sandwiches and drank fruity punch and expensive tea. They reminisced and complained about their boyfriends and husbands, or lack thereof. They traded secrets and gossip. And in some cases, they picked their toes.

"Who knew this could be so much fun!" a barefoot Ty Lee exclaimed as Toph demonstrated the sweet picking technique to a group gathered around her.

"Stick with me, Pinky, and I can show you all kinds of fancy footwork!"

Toph had obviously been spending waaaaay too much time with Bumi.

In the centre of the room sat the two expectant mothers, regal in all their expectant glory. Despite being a little more advanced in her pregnancy, Azula was about the same size as Katara, which made everyone flutter about the possibility of twins for the Fire Lord.

"Good gods, I hope not," Katara said a little nervously. "I mean, I'd love to have more children, but twins!"

"It's that whole fire-water thing," Gran-Gran whispered to the guests in explanation. "She's a little tired of that whole duality concept. And before anyone even asks, the baby's not going to have two different-colored eyes and be able to bend both elements—those are all just _Fadmon_ lies!"

Azula received more hugs in that one afternoon than she had in her whole lifetime. It was a little strange at first to be embraced so warmly by so many people she barely knew, and smiled at by perfect strangers who didn't tremble with fear. She felt surprisingly pleased by this…and a little confused.

How could having a baby change everyone's perceptions of her so radically? Was motherhood supposed to soften her like this? Who was she if she wasn't Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, former conqueror of Ba Seng Se and sister to the Fire Lord? Would she just be "Mom" for the rest of her life? The thoughts swirled endlessly through her mind, distracting her from her other worries momentarily. Seeing so many women who were mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts…it was a little overwhelming to grasp the idea that she was to be a part of a _family_ now; that, with the birth of her child, she'd be taking her place at the head of her own little kingdom of singularly devoted subjects who weren't capable of mayhem and destruction.

Not that the Dai Li wouldn't mind swaddling themselves in diapers and cooing cutely in her bed to please her. They were just that loyal…and sick.

Kisu, meanwhile, was enjoying a rare moment out of the princess's arms, though he'd been confined to a basket at her feet and tethered by a short, pink leather leash. Out of spite, he swiped at every woman's ankles, and only stopped when Lo and Li, who'd come all the way from their retirement home on Ember Island, picked him up by the scruff and peered at him with rheumy eyes.

"Avatar Aang, when did you get so small?" Lo (or maybe Li) asked.

"And hairy?" Li (or maybe Lo) added.

Azula explained gently, "Um...that's my cat."

"Silly girl, the Avatar's not a cat," Li/Lo told her as if she were daft.

"'Zula, you really should give him more respect." Lo/Li nodded her sage agreement. They bowed before the cat. "Forgive her, Avatar, she was raised by her _father._" They said the word as though it were a taboo. Considering they'd been utterly loyal to Ozai until Zuko came to power, Azula thought this an odd comment. It just added one more anxiety to her long list of things to keep her up at night.

* * *

When the princess and Fire Lady started opening gifts, Jet sat up. "Guys, this is it."

"It, what?" Aang asked, eager, but not sure why.

"They always give out lingerie and dirty little sex toys at these parties," Jet said, eyes alight with perverted fire. "Then they start trying each other's clothes on and comparing breast sizes. It all goes south from there."

"Exactly how many baby showers have you been to?" Sokka asked. His focus was on Suki—he wasn't interested in Jet's preoccupation with boobs.

Okay, maybe a little.

"Just this one," the Freedom Fighter replied easily. "But everyone knows that's what happens."

The first packages were opened to a chorus of oohs and aahs as the mothers held out tiny little swaddling clothes. More paper and ribbons were torn away, and the pile of cute onesies, footies and other ridiculously adorable miniature clothing gathered rapidly around the royals.

Larger items Jet couldn't identify began massing around them. Being the smartest of the bunch, Sokka identified the confusing panorama of things a man would never think of buying.

"Bathtub… breastfeeding pillow… diapers… crib toys… bouncer… swing… bassinet… more toys… sling… more clothes… stroller… blankets… crib sheets…" He squinted at the latest gift. "I think that's a pair of tongs for _carrying_ dirty diapers away…" He shook his head. "Weird."

"What the hell?" Jet cried indignantly. "Where are the see-through nighties? Where are the feathers and chains and leather whips?"

Aang grimaced his sympathy. "Azula's been rough on you since Haru left, hasn't she?"

Jet grumbled. "Hasn't touched me in weeks."

"Me neither…not that I want her to!" Aang said quickly, eyes darting to where Toph sat, chewing her big toenail.

Sokka said nothing, and the two others waited.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Oh, c'mon, Sokka. This silent act is getting old. We all know you've been with the princess, no matter how much you deny it."

"I haven't!" the Water Tribe warrior exclaimed. "Why does everyone think I have?"

"Hmm, well, let me see…." Jet grabbed him by the collar and tore the flaps of his shirt down to his waist, exposing a very clear bite mark and the telltale stripes of burns left by Azula's scorching fingers raking down his chest. Jet grabbed his own collar and pulled his shirt up over his head, showing Sokka identical marks.

Aang looked on in horror, a hand going up to his own secret love-marks.

Jet smirked. "Look familiar?" His fingertips danced mockingly over the Water Tribe warrior's skin, flicking a scarred nipple and making Sokka cry out.

He slapped Jet's hands away, willing his goose bumps to dissipate, but the Freedom Fighter grabbed his wrists and yanked them upwards, drawing them far too close together. As it was, there wasn't a lot of space in the priest hole to tussle, and Aang was getting uncomfortably jostled…and aroused. "It's not what you think!" Sokka hissed, trying to remind them all where they were hiding, but the time to be quiet was gone.

"Fee, fi, foh, fom…" Toph's strident voice on the other side of the wall chilled them to the bone. "I smell the blood of three peeping toms…"

Suddenly, the wall enclosing the secret room they'd been watching the shower from disappeared into the ground, revealing two shirtless boys grappling at each other and the Avatar, who stood rigidly by.

Ursa's lips spread into a wide smile as she gazed appreciatively at Sokka's bared form. "Well, well, well…"

About a dozen fans snapped open and began a gale-force fanning session amongst the tinkling titters of the female guests.

"Woo hoo! Entertainment!" Lo and Li cackled, and started throwing coppers at the boys' feet. "Break out the booze!"

"Oh, Sokka." Gran-Gran shook her head despondently. "Why can't you hook up with a _nice_ boy for once?"


	34. Confessions of a Water Tribe Warrior

**

* * *

Confessions of a Water Tribe Warrior

* * *

**

"Suki—"

"I'm not talking to you."

"Suki, hear me out—"

"I said I'm not talking to you!" The Kyoshi warrior stomped toward the far end of the grand ballroom. The other women tried not to stare, but it was kind of hard, considering a shirtless Sokka, especially since he'd buffed up, turned women's heads like a two-for-one purse sale in Ba Seng Se.

"Will you just listen?" He grabbed Suki's forearms and wheeled her around, capturing her in what Zuko would call his "I'll save you from the pirates" pose.

("It works every time, Sokka," he'd once boasted, a suggestive glint in his eyes. _"Every. Time._")

Sokka locked gazes with a sexily surprised Suki. "Whatever you've heard or read, whatever it is you think about me or what I do with other people, none of it is true!"

"I don't want to talk about this here." She averted her gaze, but Sokka saw her eyes flicker to Azula, who had pointedly turned her back on the couple. "This isn't the time."

"_She_ came to _me,_" he exclaimed on a rush of breath. "She was drunk. She was depressed. I was trying to help her. But she was drunk…"

"When is she not drunk?" Suki's accusation was damning. "And since when is that an excuse?"

"She's not drinking now, is she? Look, if you were defeated by your brother and made to live with the shame, under his thumb with his victory hanging over your head, knowing he was always the better man for leaving you alive and rehabilitating you to boot, you'd be drinking a lot, too."

"That doesn't excuse _you!_" Suki screamed. "You disgusting…_man_ of a man! How could you let her—"

"I didn't have sex with Azula!" Sokka shouted, silencing the already mute crowd.

The crickets chirping their skepticism could be heard all the way in the Western Air Temple.

"It's true," Azula confirmed quietly. Everyone turned to look at her, a figure bowed in sagging defeat. Almost inaudibly, the princess said, "He didn't…want me."

"_Thank. You."_ Sokka's loud moan of relief deflated him entirely.

Suki stared. "But then…what are these?" She indicated the scrapes, bites, burns and claw marks all over Sokka's body.

"Have you ever tried to fight that girl off? Wait, of course you have." Sokka shook his head. "Well, try fighting her off when she's already burned off all your clothes and you're still half-asleep in bed. Try resisting a horny, drunk Firebender who's also your sister-in-law and someone you respect. Someone who understands what it's like to be the other sibling. Someone you can't knock down because you understand her pain, and all you want to do is help."

"What, like you couldn't lock your bedroom door?"

"Locks don't keep those kinds of feeling in…or someone who needs my help out."

"Sokka…" Katara glanced anxiously between her brother and Azula, who was staring at her hands, cheeks aflame. "Keep the dirty laundry in the hamper, okay?"

"I'm sorry, but it has to be said. Look," he ran a hand through his hair, "what happened between her and me…it's between her and me. Period. But I'm telling you I didn't sleep with Princess Azula, no matter how it looks or what _Fadmon_ said. The baby isn't mine. And I would never, ever claim it was and deny the rightful father his son or daughter."

"That is so sweet…" Ty Lee teared up and fanned herself "…and _hot._" She called to Suki, "If you don't want him, I'll take him off your hands!"

"Melodrama," Mai sighed. "Of course we'd get melodrama for dessert. I forgot where I am." She stuffed another handful of fire flakes into her mouth to burn away the bittersweet tears welling in the back of her throat. She insisted it was her rising gorge.

"He's telling the truth," Toph volunteered somberly. "And so's Azula." If Toph knew where to look, she'd send her friend a reassuring nod.

Suki looked between them. She peered into the warrior's face, scouring his anguished expression for any trace of deceit, but she found none. Her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Sokka." She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I should have had more faith in you."

"Yeah, you should've," the Water Tribe warrior agreed smilingly.

It wasn't the first time he got punched in the head for his snappy remarks.

The other women teared up a little, as they were wont to do with so much estrogen floating through the air. Aang offered his huggable services, but Lo/Li were the only ones who took him up on the offer, much to his saggy-bosomed regret.

Katara smiled, happy his brother and the Kyoshian had reconciled. Sokka and Suki deserved each other. But when she looked over to check on her sister-in-law, Azula was gone. She'd even left Kisu behind.

The pit of her stomach bottomed out. The Firebender was not in a good emotional place right now, and Katara didn't want her to be alone.

Where had she gone?


	35. Jet Set

**

* * *

Jet Set

* * *

**

The scuff of a shoe was more than enough to give away the intruder's presence. Azula hated sloppy ninja work. "Go away."

"Hey, I'm just out to get some fresh air," Jet said carelessly, yawning and stretching on the balcony the princess had retreated to. He'd put his shirt back on. What a shame. "It smells too much like girls and fruit cake in there."

Despite her tears, Azula actually chuckled. She was so desperate to smile for the baby's sake she'd even laugh at one of Jet's jokes. How pathetic.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared blearily at the bleak stone terrace far below where years ago, the most elite of the nation's military had stood proudly, hailing her and Zuko upon their triumphant return from conquering Ba Seng Se. The cold, hard ground looked strangely inviting from way up here…

"So…" Jet began awkwardly, rubbing his neck, "how are things…in there?" He gestured vaguely at her round stomach, his unease stark and plain on his pointed face.

"Horrible." She rested her cheek in her hand and slumped against the railing. "When he's not kicking my spine, he's turning somersaults or stepping on my bladder. He's frequently demanding turtle-seal jello. And I keep having these nightmares he's going to shoot lightning straight out of my stomach and punch his way out."

"Sounds like he takes after his ma."

Azula moaned and buried her face in the crook of her arms, sobs racking her whole delicate but rotund frame. "Why?" she hiccupped. "Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't this baby be someone else's?" She sniffed wetly. "I can't be a good mother…I'll never…" Her words dissolved into wet blubbers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, now, uh…" Jet wavered between running away and taking the princess in his arms. She was a complete, snotty mess, and he'd just cleaned his clothes. Eventually and with some resignation, he opted on the latter and folded a shivering Azula into his lanky arms.

"It's okay, just cry it out," he murmured, his discomfiture easing at the feel of her soft, round flesh pressing against his wiry, hardened body. Emotions, especially of the female sort, had never been his forte, but soothing Azula with the gentle, broad strokes of his callused hands was something he knew how to do. Like taming a wild eel-hound. And the princess was so much more appealing when she wasn't whipping him or berating him or demanding stridently, _Harder, faster, deeper…_

He shook the disturbingly arousing thoughts out of his head. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, but Iroh—fount of all worldly knowledge, especially in matters of the opposite sex—had always said a man should simply do so, and hope the woman accepted. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No, I don't suppose you did." She squeezed him tighter. His ribcage creaked and cracked in protest. "But you never mean to be _anything,_ do you?"

That got his attention. He aimed a slit-eyed look downwards. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Now _there_ was a loaded word if Jet had ever heard one. _Nothing,_ according to Iroh, was short for "if you don't know already, you don't deserve to hear it from me."

And maybe Jet already knew.

Jet held her away. "What? You think I don't have any ambition? That I don't mean the things I say? That I can't commit?"

She peeked up at him, nonplussed. "I didn't say—"

"Oh, I get it." He ground his jaw. "You think just because I'm a lazy, mooching gadabout I couldn't possibly be the dad, or that I couldn't possibly be a good father." His anguished scowl startled Azula. "I had parents once, you know. Great parents. My dad was the one who taught me how to fight. He taught me about all kinds of important things."

"Jet, I never said you wouldn't make a good father," the Firebender told him snappishly.

"I'd make a _great_ father," Jet insisted forcefully. "I was mother _and_ father to a whole bunch of rug rats. We lived in frickin' treehouses that _I_ had to design and build myself! I made sure they all ate their vegetables and washed their hands, and I wiped their noses and everything!"

Seized by a sudden fury, he gripped her by the arms. His brown eyes, usually as soft and as deceptively welcoming as a moose-lion's, burned with Zuko-esque intensity. "How do you know I'm not the father?" he demanded.

The princess's wide eyes blinked up at him. "I…I don't know…"

"You don't know? Or you don't want to contemplate it?" He let her go suddenly, regaining his composure. He paced away, giving them some breathing room, but Azula could hardly catch her breath. Her heart hammered in her throat. She'd never seen Jet like this. He'd always been content to laze around, flirt with the concubines, keep things simple. He was a casual guy, the one guy she could count on not to take things seriously, and she'd always been fine with that. But now…

"Tell me the truth," he said shortly over his shoulder. "Do you know who the father is?"

Her answer was unequivocal. "No."

"Everyone says you always lie."

"Not about this." She stared at the ground, placing a protecting palm over her belly and mourning for the fatherless child within her. "I…I couldn't."

He closed his eyes, mustering up his courage.

"What if…what if I said _I_ want to be the father?"

It seemed like a long time before Azula could process his request.

And then…

"OHOHOHO! AHAHAHA!! You're kidding, right? You? Father_ my_ child?" She doubled over. Actually, it was only about quartered over, since she was so round. "Oh, oh, oh, that's just rich. The guy who tried to wipe out a whole village of Firebenders wants to play daddy to my evil Firebending offspring!" She wiped her eyes, and Jet wasn't certain it was tears of laughter she was crying.

"Jet, you're a riot," Azula said through a haze of moisture blurring her face. She waved casually as she headed back in. "I feel _so_ much better now, knowing _you're_ here in case we _never_ learn who the daddy is." Her sarcasm was about as thick as Pipsqueak's skull.

The princess drifted back indoors, still clutching her belly, shoulders shuddering with…surely those were sobs?

Jet watched her go in silence. He decided to let her have this match. He'd prove to her—to everyone—he'd make a worthy father…and the perfect royal consort.


	36. Blessings

**

* * *

Blessings

* * *

**

"I want to marry your daughter."

Ozai scowled from the top edge of latest issue of _Fadmon,_ the front page loudly declaring "ZUTARA FOREVER" in big, bold font. "What's that now? Who're you trying to kill?"

Jet stalked forward and grabbed a chair, straddling it before the ex-Fire Lord. His expression was dead serious. "I want to marry Azula. I want your blessing."

The Firebender—or rather ex-Firebender, since he was about as impotent as Aang in the catacombs of Ba Seng Se—cocked an eyebrow at the young Freedom Fighter. His lips turned down severely. "And why would I give you, some worthless ragamuffin orphan man-child, my daughter's hand in marriage?"

"Cuz I'm the toughest ragamuffin orphan man-child that's ever gone up against a whole platoon of Fire Nation soldiers." Jet jabbed a thumb into his chest, grinning proudly.

"Ah, yes," Ozai said, sneering down the length of his nose, "the Earth Kingdom shit disturber. You _would_ be my daughter's type."

"That's what _I'm_ saying," the young man replied with an Appa-worthy load of hubris. "And I'd be a damn good father, too."

Ozai tugged on his goatee in contemplative, Iroh-esque fashion. He had to admit, the two-bit thug had balls. Big, shiny Turtle-lion-size balls. Anyone who would touch Azula with a ten-foot pole and go back for more had to have some gumption. Or a death wish. Or a brain defect.

Regardless, Ozai had to admit that of all the potential fathers, he preferred Jet. The Avatar would have been his first choice for Azula—perhaps simply because Ozai liked the idea of torturing Aang as a son-in-law. But Jet, at least, wasn't a goody-goody, or an insufferable know-it-all like the brother of his son's wife, Sokka. And he was way better than that pouf, Haru, even if the Earthbender did have _fantastic_ hair…

He shook the distracting thoughts away. He was trying to figure out how he could use the fiery conviction in the young ruffian's eyes and turn it to suit his own purposes. Perhaps Jet could help him take the throne back from his pathetically soft-hearted spawn….

"Before I even begin to _contemplate_ you fathering my grandchild," Ozai drawled, sitting back, "I have some questions that will ascertain your readiness to accept a role in the royal family. Ours is a long line of dignity and honor...our pedigree is beyond dispute."

"Except for that whole Avatar Roku being Zuko's great-grandfather," Jet added smarmily.

Ozai frowned. "I guess that answers my first quiz on what you know about the royal family's lineage," he conceded grimly. He usually stumped people with that one—the irony of a past Avatar being related to his beloved wife…well, who could have seen _that_ coming?

"Way to choose your women, by the way," Jet went on blithely. "Ursa's _hot,_ and Zuko ain't half-bad either." His eyes brightened and he broke into a grin. "Ha! Half-bad. Get it? Because he's scarred, and he was bad, but then he turned good…"

Ozai's mouth twitched. Was it wrong that he liked the boy's sense of humor?

(Yes.)

But that was hardly enough to win him favor. Time to pull out the big guns. "Hypothetical situation: your son or daughter and their little friends have wrested power from you, leaving you unable to bend and at their mercy. You're the laughing stock of the whole world. What do you do?"

Jet rubbed his bristly jaw. "Hmm. I can sense this is a trick question."

And then a smile as wide as the Great Divide broke over his face. He snapped his fingers. "Same thing I'd do any time life lets me down! Hold that thought!" He pushed out of his chair and dashed out of the room.

Ozai thought the boy was gone for good, but when he returned ten minutes later, he couldn't help but be more than a little impressed.

"Ember Island brandy…" the ex-Fire Lord remarked with carefully veiled glee as Jet set down the crate he'd filched from the palace's keep. His lips spread into an even wider grin when he noticed the seals on the lids. "I see you went for my brother's private stock. A man of taste, then."

"And generosity." Jet plonked two glasses before the man who would be his father-in-law. He deftly popped the cork on a bottle of the vintage spirit and poured a hearty measure of the dark amber liquid into each tumbler.

Ozai decided he _really_ liked this Jet fellow. Too bad he'd have to kill the idiot eventually.

"Let's drink to the women who've earned our respect!" The Freedom Fighter exclaimed, raising his glass. "To family! To love!"

Ozai sipped the fiery purgative. The brandy slipped down his throat and warmed his gullet with intense heat. Heady stuff. It would do its work quickly and expel the bending suppressant that kept him a prisoner in his own body. He murmured silkily, "And to revenge…"

Jet looked up. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Excuse me?" Ozai tossed the drink down.

"I thought I just heard you say 'revenge'." The Freedom Fighter tilted his chin coquettishly.

"Revenge? No, no, I didn't say that." Ozai laughed nervously and poured himself another two fingers.

"Then what did you say?"

"I said…uh, I said…" he sought a word through a mouthful of tongue-numbing brandy "…Li…benge…?" He gazed up at the boy with hopeful innocence.

Jet stared at him. He shrugged. "Okay, then. To Libenge, whoever he is."

Ozai grimaced. If Jet was, in fact, the father of Azula's baby, he sincerely hoped the child inherited his daughter's intelligence.


	37. Prelude to a Battle

**

* * *

Prelude to a Battle

* * *

**

_Elsewhere in the palace..._

A restless buzz infused the air as last-minute preparations for the first strike against _Fadmon_ were carried out. Armor was polished, weapons were cleaned, and supplies were being loaded onto the newly refurbished war balloons.

"And such lovely colors," Azula mused, smiling at the sunny yellow and cool lavender zeppelins. Truly they were a fruity sight to behold. Who would ever suspect such gaily painted baubles to house a deadly force of soldiers bent on the destruction of _Fadmon_ and all it stood for?

Zuko watched his sister, who cradled her damnable pet between her engorged breasts on top of her very pregnant belly. For the first time in a long, long while—ever, now that he thought about it—he felt genuine concern for her. "Azula, you don't need to go with the fleet. You're due any day now. It's not safe—"

"Pshaw, Zuzu, I'm fine." She tickled Kisu's chin, and the cat scowled at her. "Kisu''ll be right here to protect me, won't you, my pwecious puddy-wuddy cutie patootie?"

The grey cat meowed resignedly. It wasn't as though he could get away from her, anyhow.

"A cat's not going to be able to do squat if your water breaks and you start pushing," Zuko huffed. "For your sake, and for the baby's sake, I'm telling you, you need to stay at home in the Fire Nation."

"Yes, you would say that, wouldn't you?" She frowned at him deeply. "You're just trying to ensure my child isn't exposed to the glory of the battlefield." Her voice softened to a pleading whine. "When else am I going to get this chance? After we annihilate _Fadmon,_ there won't be any other enemies to conquer, now, will there?"

Zuko rubbed deep circles into his temples, using the calming chant Aang had recently taught him to lower his sky-high blood pressure. "Ohm…don'tmakethelightningbendermad…ohm…"

He regained himself. Patiently, he said, "Azula, you did a great job planning the attacks. I mean it. In fact, I'm certain the troops could go through this fight blindfolded with one hand tied behind their backs thanks to your strategies. Won't you consider—"

"I won't leave the job half-done." She crossed her arms over her chest…except that her enlarged bosom and the cat nestled between the bulbous globes of her maternal femininity didn't give her a whole lot of room to maneuver, so she ended up resting her elbows overtop a squished, protesting Kisu. "I'll be there to oversee the operation, make no mistake."

Zuko relented. There was no use arguing with his sister. "All right. I'll let you go. But," he insisted, "Mom is going to come along to make sure you don't overdo it." It might give the two an opportunity to bond. As much as Azula had wanted her mother at home to help her through the last nine months of hell, the two hadn't spent much time together. Things were apparently still a little awkward between them despite all Ursa had promised regarding mommy-daughter time.

His sister said nothing in response, her expression shuttered. She simply nodded, then made her excuses and left to oversee preparations for the coming battle.

A great weariness settled upon Zuko shoulders, but was eased when dark, slender hands settled upon him and started kneading the knots of tension into putty.

"You look stressed."

Zuko turned and smiled weakly at the radiant visage of his roly-poly wife. He bent and kissed Katara tenderly. "I'm better when you're here with me."

She took his hands in hers. "I wish you didn't have to go. I wish I could come with you instead of staying cooped up in here. You know I'm strong enough to fight."

"I know you are. But it's best for the baby," he told her gently, placing a warm palm over her stomach. The baby kicked hard, and the Waterbender gasped when he rolled restlessly.

"Looks like someone's eager to meet Daddy," she giggled, patting her belly to quell the somersaults.

"And I'm eager to meet my son or daughter." Zuko's turned a soft gaze upon her. "I'd rather stay here than leave you alone. You know I do."

"I know. But this is your fight. You have to see it through." She placed his palm over her cheek and nuzzled his roughened hand. "Just do me a favor and keep an eye on your sister."

"I always do." Even in his sleep. "Aang and Jet will both be there, and I'm going to ask my mother to chaperone, as well. Sokka's going to stay here."

Katara was shocked. "But he's the best warrior we have!"

"He's going to stay to protect you, of course." Zuko smiled grimly. "Without my mother around, I can't trust Dad to behave himself."

"I can handle Ozai," Katara asserted mulishly.

"No doubt. Still, I'd feel better knowing your brother's here. Sokka's already agreed to stay behind."

"What about Toph?"

"She's normally spoiling for a fight, but she told me she's going to stay behind, too. Something about not tempting Fate…" He frowned. "I don't know what that means. In any case, she doesn't want anything to do with this war. She can keep you company, too."

They held each other, gazing at the enormous froufrou-colored zeppelins bobbing in the gentle breeze as people of the Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation and Water Tribes trickled in and out, laughing, talking, hoping, dreaming of the days ahead, looking forward to a fight they knew they couldn't possibly lose.

Their destiny was at hand. Zuko and Katara had managed to unite their people against a common foe. They'd achieved with this campaign everything the Avatar had striven for since that first fateful day when a young Waterbender had raged about her brother's smelly socks and started their journey toward greatness.

In less than twenty-four hours, the corps would land on Kyoshi and utterly destroy the ranks of the vile _Fadmon._

Little did they know, victory would not come as easily as they hoped…


	38. Prelude to a Baby

**

* * *

Prelude to a Baby

* * *

**

Like muumuued matrons taking wing, the war balloons alighted—great gay sentinels in the sky whose bright colors and the gaudily uniformed crew proclaiming to the world, "We're here, we're queer, we're gonna blow stuff up!"

In a new suit of gold and white armor (because even Zuko drew the line at wearing lavender) the Fire Lord and the platoon leaders waved to the shrinking crowd gathered at the zeppelin docks. His eyes stayed locked on his beautiful wife's until he could no longer discern the sky-blue of her hope-filled gaze.

Below, Katara clutched a handkerchief at her breast and swallowed down her stinging tears. She knew it wouldn't be a long war, or a hard battle. But it was still hard to see Zuko go.

Azula watched impassively. She had no such sweetheart to wave goodbye to, and the strange, alien hole gaping wide in her soul hollowed out a little more. True, anticipating the life growing inside her filled every corner of her mind and heart, but something was missing. And Azula didn't like to think that she was lacking.

She left the railing and deflated, feeling every day and pound of her pregnancy dragging her down. Her swollen feet and bowed back ached. Her moods had been diverging wildly, and before she could grasp one set of ragged emotions, another debilitating wave of feelings would swamp her, drowning her in a deluge of tears, red-hot rage or uncontrollable laughter. All this she just barely suppressed beneath the thinning veneer of her cool, royal façade. But the cracks were starting to show on her porcelain visage.

She was a mess, but she had no one she could admit that to.

Zuko glanced over at his sister. His mouth tightened into a thin line of worry. "You should get some rest, Azula. The war meeting won't take place for a few hours yet."

And wasn't he being just the sweetest, most sensitive guy lately? Azula hated to admit how grateful she was to her own brother. To think she'd tried to kill him all those times when all he'd ever been was patient and merciful…loving, even.

Tears flooded the backs of her eyes. She nodded silently to hide them, then retired to her room as quickly as her waddle would allow.

Stupid hormones.

She found Ursa sitting on the settee in the royal quarters, crocheting something. At first she hadn't been sure about having her mother around, but Ursa was the epitome of serenity and grace. Hearing her low humming and basking in that calming aura the Fire Matron exuded bathed Azula in peace.

"Is that for the baby?" she asked her mother, feeling a smile pull at her lips.

"Actually, I'm knitting a suit of armor for Kisu." Ursa nodded at the cat clinging to the nest of her daughter's bosom. Since takeoff, she hadn't needed a leash to keep him tame—the gentle, buoyant listing of the airship was enough incentive to stay attached to his stalwart mistress. "He's going to need something to protect his hide when we go in." She flapped out the little onesie made of ultrafine wire mesh the Fire Matron had brilliantly stitched together.

Azula fingered the mini chain-mail vest. "It's beautiful. Maybe you can make one for the baby."

"If he needs it. Oh, 'Zula," Ursa rested a warm hand over her daughter's, worry on her face, "you know you don't have to go out there. You don't need to fight. The others here…"

"Are looking to me and Zuko to lead them. I won't let them down, Mother. I won't let Zuzu down, either. I made a promise to him, and by the gods and spirits, I'm not about to lie or cheat or betray him while I'm carrying this baby." A look of fierce commitment creased her tired features.

Ursa said nothing in return. Did her mother understand what she was really saying? That this baby was not only a gift, but a way to redeem herself in everyone's eyes? Azula had spent the last nine months thinking hard about the life she'd led, about the world she'd helped to shape with her ruthlessness. And she wasn't sure she liked that _this_ was the world she'd made for her son or daughter.

She turned the conversation away from her maudlin thoughts and decided to take the opportunity to ask her mother the question she'd tried unsuccessfully to forget since her pregnancy began. "Mom…what's it like to give birth?"

A deep, cold darkness clouded the Fire Matron's eyes. "It's the most excruciating experience in the world," Ursa uttered forebodingly and without preamble. "Think about the worst pain you've ever had and then multiply it by a hundred thousand. Imagine piercing your body with a million rings and then pulling them all out of your flesh a handful at a time and then having salt rubbed into your wounds. It's like being deflowered by a pine tree while swimming in a lake of boiling acid."

"Oh, is that _all?_" Azula said in relief. "I thought it'd be _much_ worse."

"Not that I know what kind of pain you're used to…or want to know," the matron said with a shudder, "but I imagine it might actually be worse than I'm describing." She paused. "Not to scare you, of course."

"Of course." She wasn't scared. That's what she told herself, anyhow.

"A tip," Ursa offered sagely. "Try to make sure your legs are shaved before you go into labor. It's a bitch to shave them when you're having contractions."

Azula didn't know why she would have to worry about her legs while giving birth, but decided not to question the woman who'd been through it twice. "What about the breathing thing? I remember Katara saying something about breathing exercises, but I never got the chance to try them."

"Oh!" Ursa put a hand to her mouth. "I completely forgot! I'm sorry, usually the father…" She trailed off, pursing her lips. "Of course I'll teach them to you."

The Lamaze technique was similar to Firebending breathing and meditation, but Azula had never really prescribed to the practice because it made her skin blotchy and her expansive bosom heave in an unseemly fashion. But if it was good for the baby and would ease the birthing process, she'd happily heave away.

Ensconced—well, stuck was more like it—in the valley of her cleavage, Kisu wasn't too thrilled by the compressive exercise.

"It helps when someone is doing this with you," Ursa explained as Azula huffed and puffed, muffling the cat's plaintive meows. "When you bear down and push, it'll be good to have someone there whose arm you can break."

_Oooookay._ At that, Kisu decided it was time to plan his escape.

"Maybe Daddy will be with me," Azula joked bitterly. "He could use a little arm-breaking, don't you think?"

Ursa smirked, but said nothing.

A beat of silence passed, then two. The princess finally said, "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I… I want to say something, but I don't want you to tell anyone. Not anyone."

"What is it?"

"I'm…" She swallowed tightly. "I'm scared."

Ursa didn't smile. "I know."

"I mean I'm terrified. What if the baby's just like me? What if I can't handle him or her?"

"Oh, 'Zula. You weren't that bad as a child. I worried mostly about what was going on in your head, what your father was filling your mind with. But when you were a baby…" She sighed, reflecting on happier times. "You had the sweetest coos and you slept so soundly through the night. I used to sit up and watch you, just to hear you breathe."

"I must have been a terror at the table." Azula imagined the tantrums she might have thrown if someone had put a steaming bowl of _jook_ in front of her then. She hated _jook._

"You were a picky eater," Ursa conceded with a small smile. "But when we figured out what you really liked, you ate it all up. Candied yams with shredded pig-chicken and peas, in case you're wondering."

"What if…" The princess stared at her hands and willed them not to shake. "What if the baby hates me?" Tears welled in her eyes and burned her throat. She croaked, "What if I hate him?"

Wordlessly, Ursa gathered her daughter in her arms. She knew what Azula was really worrying about. "I love you so much, and I'm so proud of you. That's what being a parent is about. Pure, unconditional love. I know it seemed like I didn't show you that kind of feeling, but believe me—" her lips pressed tightly together "—it hurt to think I might have stopped loving you because of the way you were growing up. So intelligent, so keen, so eager, so talented. I regret every day ever calling you a monster."

"But I was one." The words fluttering past her wet lips came out barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mom." Old, tired remorse crept into her heart.

"No, I'm sorry. I said those words in anger, but I never meant them. I love you, and that's what's important." She straightened, dashing tears away, a bright smile breaking over her blotchy face. "Azula, you're going to be a great mother, as long as you always remember to love your child, to put him before everything else, to be firm and to make sure he grows up knowing his mother loves him no matter what."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Ursa hesitated before she continued. "There's an old saying. It takes a village to raise a child. But really, it takes two—a mother and a father, or at least a mother and her well-meaning partner who despite not knowing how to change a diaper, will be there to spot you when you need to take a bath or use the toilet." Her lips twisted in one corner. "Azula, I want you to be happy, but having a baby isn't easy. I'm worried about you."

"The servants will help me," Azula said automatically. "There'll be a nursemaid and a nanny and…" She trailed off, suddenly stricken by the thought of all these strangers whom she knew nothing about raising her baby. It was the way of royal families, yes, but Ursa had cared for Zuko and Azula on her own for most of their early childhood. Funny how the Fire princess was only now remembering the nights snuggled up next to her mother after a bad dream, the pictures she'd helped her draw, the games they used to play together…

She realized then that _she_ wanted to be the one up late at night cuddling her infant child, feeding her milk from her breast, cleaning the baby's spit-up and changing the poopy diapers.

Okay, maybe not so much of that last one. But still, even barf and poop and pee had a strangely personal appeal.

"There will be lots of us to help with the child. But this is more about you than the baby."

Azula frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

Ursa composed her words carefully. "You had scores of men around you all the time before you became pregnant. The Dai Li, Sokka, Aang, Jet and that Haru boy…" She pursed their lips. "Were they ever enough?"

"They were plenty. And there's no reason they won't be enough after the baby comes." The lie was so distasteful she nearly gagged on it.

Ursa shook her head. "When the baby comes, the men will leave your bed. You won't have time for them. Do you even have time for them now?"

"I…" She hadn't. She'd been focused on keeping herself healthy, on preparing the palace and helping her brother plan this war, on making the world a better place…all for the baby.

A drawn-out silence stretched between them. "I hear," Ursa said slowly, "that Jet is seeking your hand in marriage. He seems…" she hesitated, but her mouth eventually curved up in a plastic rictus of a Joo-Dee smile "…_nice_."

Jet had been trying to distract her from her gloom with alpha-male shows of affection—flexing wiry muscles, growling at other men, beating his chest, and so forth—but Azula knew his possessiveness would wane soon enough. His attentions wandered too frequently, so he could never be relied upon to be faithful. Despite his fervent desire to be a good father, he'd never make a good confidant or life partner.

"That's silly. Jet has the attention span of a vulture-wasp in a field of panda lilies, and the commitment gene of one, too."

"Nonetheless, he sought your father's blessing, and earned it, from what I've heard. I can't imagine what the boy said or did to earn Ozai's respect, but…" She shrugged, pretending to approve of him with another discomfited grin.

Azula sent her a deadpan look that could've rivaled Mai's. "I think that's even more reason not to trust him. Mom, I'm not going to marry Jet."

"Even for the baby's sake?" Hope shone brightly in her eyes.

The princess was irked. "I hardly see why the baby is part of this discussion when you started by saying you were worried about me."

Ursa sagged in defeat. "It's…complicated. I just don't want you eliminating any options before you've really thought them through. Weird things happen to your brain after you've given birth. You make all kinds of crazy decisions that could affect your baby for the rest of his life."

"Good thing you'll be around to pick up after my mistakes then." Azula chuckled.

Ursa smiled at that. "Yes. I'll be there." She wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders and held her tightly. "And I promise I won't leave this time."

* * *

**Okay, so I've been a bit less funny and a little more foo-fooey with the baby story lines. Not to worry--shenanigans coming soon!**


	39. Hard Landing

**

* * *

Hard Landing

* * *

**

The flight from the Fire Nation capital to Kyoshi lasted all of four hours—plenty of time for a nap, a meal and a game of paisho. The wind—and the Avatar who controlled it—ushered them along as the zeppelin fleet cruised east. No one expected a fierce battle…but no one was sure what to expect, either.

"Just be prepared when we storm the _Fadmon_ headquarters," Azula told the platoon leaders confidently. Kisu, kitted out in an adorable suit of mesh armor, glowered fiercely at the troops from his mistress's shoulder, daring them to say something about the morningstar pompom hanging from his tail. "My sources tell me they're located in the main village in the old dojo, but there's no telling what will be between us and them."

"Should we be expecting any interference from the Kyoshi warriors?" Hakoda asked. He'd seen those girls in action, and didn't look forward to sparring with them.

"No. Oyagi tried to get them to defend their home, but they're not interested, not after the lies _Fadmon_ printed about them." Azula laid out an older issue of the leaflet. The front page read, "SCANDAL! What happens in the dojo STAYS in the dojo!" and it featured a titillating drawing of the warriors frolicking around in their skivvies, kissing each other and torturing someone who looked a lot like Ty Lee.

("That is _so_ wrong," Ty Lee had complained of the picture. "My boobs are _way_ perkier than that!")

"This should be a piece of cake," Azula went on in a mild tone, but her eyes sparked with steely calculation. "Still, we can't underestimate our foe. Make sure the troops are prepared for anything. Ambush, bombs, traps…resistance of any kind must be snuffed out. We must emerge as the undisputed champions in this. Nothing but total annihilation will do!"

Zuko let his sister's diabolical charisma wash over him…but he'd become used to its inexorable pull over the years, so wasn't as fired up as the rest of the gathering. He'd always envied her ability to draw energy from her audience, processing the mild enthusiasm and turning it into fiery conviction. The princess was like that invention the Mechanist had gifted to Katara and Zuko for their wedding—the "vacuum cleaner."

What was it Katara had said about his sister? Ah, yes—"Azula's personality is just like a vacuum cleaner—it sucks _and_ blows."

Just to make sure everyone understood who was in charge, he stepped up as soon as Azula had finished speaking. The troops and their officers were rapt.

"This is the first strike against an enemy that could be lurking anywhere," he boomed. "When we take Kyoshi and liberate its inhabitants of _Fadmon's_ oppression, we'll be able to strike out at all their distributors and those who side with our opponents. We must make it clear to the world: either you are with us, or you are with the enemy."

Everyone nodded and murmured their assent and their grave understanding.

A klaxon rang, indicating their arrival.

"We're approaching Kyoshi Island now," Fire Lord Zuko declared unnecessarily. "Everyone prepare for final descent. It's time we cleaned the mouths of these rumormongers!"

A cheer arose and the troops scattered in all directions to man their stations. The air hummed with excitement, with keen, steely verve…with bloodlust.

The ultimate battle for truth and justice was about to begin.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Fire Nation palace, regret mixed with boredom and impatience hung in the air like a stubborn fart.

Toph half sighed, half grunted. "It's too quiet."

Katara poured the little Earthbender's tea and smiled. "Maybe you should've gone with the fleet. Zuko could've used you at the front line." Of course, the Fire Lady was anxious for her husband, too. But the unspoken consensus seemed to be he'd be back in time for dinner. No one expected this fight against _Fadmon _to last longer than a few hours…

No one, of course, except Toph, who, despite being blind, could see more clearly than most of her myopic colleagues.

"Are you kidding me?" she exclaimed, scowling deeply. "I wouldn't face _Fadmon_ in a million years." She shuddered. "Just thinking about all those fangirls…"

The Fire Lady faltered. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Fangirls. You know, those crazed psychos that were following Zuko around for gods know how long?"

A cold feeling spread through her stomach. Her baby tumbled restlessly. "What about them?"

"Huh. I thought you knew. There's a whole army of them waiting for the attack on Kyoshi." Toph picked her nose nonchalantly. "_Fadmon_ has an enormous, far-reaching audience you know." She snorted at the beat of incredulous silence. "What? Did you really think they'd let their beloved tabloid go down in flames?"

* * *

In the loading bay where the troops had gathered, Jet stood at the front lines by the bay doors, prepared to show Azula how great a leader he was, how brave he could be. It just wouldn't do to hover in the back somewhere, where no one could see his glorious courage as they smashed the helpless _Fadmon_ empire into itty-bitty pieces_._

"Just like old times, eh, Smellerbee?" he nudged his old colleague. The Freedom Fighters had all reunited for this event—easy targets were their specialty, after all.

Smellerbee just glowered at him. "You're lucky Longshot talked me into this," she grumbled. "I was very happy serving tea in Ba Seng Se, you know. I didn't have to get back into the mercenary business. I could have had a nice, quiet, happy life, but then you—"

"Uh, guys..." Pipsqueak squinted his piggy little eyes and stared hard at the island through the view hole in the hull. "What…what is that?"

Jet glanced over the behemoth's shoulder. "It's just the trees, Pipsqueak. They can't hurt you."

"No. No, those aren't trees," The Duke chimed in. "Look at the way they're moving."

Indeed, the forest seemed to be rippling with movement, not from the wind, but with hyper-frentic energy that seemed to grow the closer they got.

Others had gathered at the various view ports now, staring down at the mysterious movement on Kyoshi. Nerves twinged. The excitement dimmed, slowly turned into a cold dread that settled like lead in everyone's stomachs.

"Shh-shh-shh. Everyone. Listen." Smellerbee made everyone hush. A prolonged high-pitched whine sliced through the air.

"What is that?" Pipsqueak whispered fearfully.

"It's…" Jet's eyes widened. A cold shiver trickled down his spine and raised the hairs on his neck.

He knew that noise. It had driven him to the brink of insanity a few times in his life. And it heralded a long and difficult battle ahead.

"It's fangirls…" His tone vibrated with a tremor. "And they're _squeeing._"

* * *

Katara's tea cup tumbled to the ground, the amber liquid splashing all over the floor. She wobbled to her feet. "You knew about the fangirls and didn't tell anyone?" Shock, fear, dread—none of those words were strong enough to express her state.

Toph only shrugged. "Azula ought to know. _She_ was the one who summoned them to the island."

The Waterbender gasped, staggering backwards. "Why?" she cried. "Why would she do that?"

Toph shrugged again. "For kicks?"

Rampant fear coursed through the Fire Lady's veins like ice, clogging her ability to think, to move. "I—I have to warn Zuko!" Katara started out the room in a daze, but as she headed for the door, she nearly crashed into a panicked-looking Sokka.

"Sokka! We have to—"

"Ozai…" he gasped, gripping his sister by the arms. The acrid smell of smoke rose off him. "Brandy…Firebending…he's—"

A telltale _whoosh_ and crackle made Katara instinctively duck as a jet of hot flame struck the door frame, leaving a blackened patch of soot where her head had been. A heatwave scorched her back and made her stumble back just as another lance of fire whipped out.

"Ozai's puked up his Firebending suppressant!" Sokka yelled as he urged the two out of the room. "He can bend again! And he's going to kill us all!"


	40. Hard Battle

**

* * *

Hard Battle

* * *

**

"What do you mean you didn't expect this many?!" Zuko screamed over the shrill war cry of innumerable fangirls inexpertly brandishing knives, clubs, bo staffs and other assorted weapons ranging from ridiculously huge blades that could only possibly be for decoration, to rubber replicas of traditional weapons likely bought at some fan convention. It didn't matter that they couldn't fight, though—the invasion force was outnumbered ten to one. They'd be smothered to death by overzealous fans.

Azula grunted as she let go another sizzling lightning bolt, clearing the path ahead toward the old Kyoshi dojo. But even as the fangirls—and several fanboys—fell, yet more flowed into the void like sand rushing to fill footsteps in the desert. "I issued a little challenge…I didn't want this battle to be _too_ easy." She shot a torrent of blue fire over her brother's shoulder. Several girls went up in gleeful, squeeing flames. They danced away, seeming strangely overjoyed to have been touched by the princess's deadly fire. "Who could have predicted this kind of turnout?"

"_I_ could've!" Zuko shouted back angrily. "Why do you think I banished all fangirls from the capital! You know I _hate_ fangirls! You think I'm afraid of them because I don't like women?"

"Well—"

"Shut up!" He shot a series of fireballs at the girls rushing them from the left. They scattered, but were quickly reforming their ranks. "They're mindless, fanatical zombies, Azula! If we don't disperse them soon, they'll tear us apart!"

The banshee squeal of a thousand teenaged—and some not-so-teenaged—fans rose as Jet swung high over their heads, tethered by a sturdy grappling rope, and landed between Zuko and his sister. His hook swords clashed with the flimsy cardboard replicas of some look-alike fan, and he kicked the cosplayer back into the crowd. "Honey, are you okay?" he asked Azula.

"Don't 'honey' me, right now," she ground out, concentrating on blasting a trio of overweight nerds waving printed out fanfiction at her. The massive manuscripts disintegrated into puffy ash, but the nerds just kept coming. Zuko intercepted them with a roar, incinerating the crazily smiling creeps with a ferocious wave of fire.

"Aang!" he yelled. "Where the hell is Aang?"

But the Avatar had problems of his own. Scores of fangirls were clinging to Appa's fur like stubborn sky-bison leavings, dragging the beast down out of the sky as more and more of the fans clambered on.

"Get off! Get off, all of you!" Aang shouted. But it was too late. Appa plunged to the ground, moaning all the way. He hit, a massive grinding, groaning noise shuddering through the air as rocks and dirt churned up along the plowed path. Bodies in fan bliss lay scattered around, roiling in their ecstasy after touching the Airbender's beloved spirit guide.

Aang levered himself up on his elbows, rubbing his spinning head. But before he could even get his bearings, someone screamed, "Dogpile!" The Avatar was almost instantly buried in fans. Girls and boys flung themselves onto the massive human mountain with mindless abandon, chanting, _"Avatar state! Avatar state!"_

"They're insane!" Zuko cried, shuddering in horror. But there was nothing he could do for his poor, crushed friend.

"They're _fans,_" Azula replied grimly. "I thought a few dozen would show up. The locals, you know. Just enough to provide a bit of a challenge."

"This is more than a challenge," Jet gritted, punching yet another cosplayer in the face. "Someone's been feeding these guys something fierce."

"Or denying it to them." Azula shot a disparaging look at her brother. "You can't _not_ feed the fans, Zuzu. Just because your life is all nice and tidy after winning the crown and saving the world, doesn't mean you can just leave the fans and pretend they're happy, too. They want more." She fried a slavering fangirl. "They _always_ want more. Why do you think they love _Fadmon_ so much? You gotta give them what they want!"

"They wanted _me!_" Zuko screamed. He kicked a tiny fangirl, punting her through the trees, and spun toward his sister in anger. "What was I supposed to do? Just let them have their way with me?"

"_Yes!"_ She churned the air, whipping one arm out. A bright blue ribbon of heat and sparks sizzled through the air and skewered five girls who'd been about to pounce on Zuko. They fell to the ground, giggling.

"So, what, this is my fault now? I wasn't the one to issue a challenge to a bunch of mindless fans!"

"And I wasn't the one to declare war against an otherwise harmless bunch of fanatics!"

"They're _not_ harmless!" Zuko shouted in anger. "You think it's just me they want? It's not! It's all of us! They want every little scrap of our lives! They want to dominate and control us, destroy everything about our way of life. First it'll be me, then you, all our friends, our family, our neighbors—" He punched a fangirl who'd broken through the lines in the face. The crunch of his knuckles made him hiss and shake his mangled hand. "They'd rewrite our history if they could! I mean, have you _read_ any of that fanfiction?"

Just then, a pair of fangirls rushed them, tumbling Ty-Lee style in a series of arcing limbs, martial arts kicks, and generally useless over-the-head flourishes that looked pretty, but weren't designed to be anything but aesthetic. But because of their unpredictable forms and nonsensical stances, none of the three could land a blow.

They got closer. Too close. Azula flinched back, afraid for her baby and oddly disturbed by the weirdly mesmerizing steps of the dance.

"Azula—!" But Jet had been diverted by a trio of fanboys. He couldn't get to the princess in time.

Her limbs froze, paralyzed by the bizarreness of the dancing duo. For the first time in battle, the Firebender was suffocating with fear. She screamed as the fangirls reached for her with grubby hands—

A bolt of shining white flashed across her vision. The tumbling twins staggered back, crying in dismay as bloody streaks painted their faces. An eerie yowl pierced the air, emanating from the lightning ball of…fur?

"Kisu!" Azula exclaimed as she found her voice. She'd entirely forgotten about her precious feline in the heat of the battle.

The cat's eyes glowed with dark menace as he assessed his foes. He knew those moves—they'd been ingrained into his blood as a kitten, a form as ancient as his noble race. And these two were defiling it with their inexpert fumbling!

How dare the fangirls mock the sacred Dancing Kitty-Cat!

He launched himself into a berserker rage at the girls, who ran screaming as teeth and claws encased in shining hand-stitched chain-mail armor dug into their scalps, their skin, tearing and gouging.

By the hairballs of his ancestors, Kisu swore, he'd show the world he was no pussy!

"Kisu!" Azula screamed as the cat was swallowed up by the fray. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He'd saved her…but would he be able to save himself? The poor, helpless beast…at the mercy of the fangirls.

Despair clutched her heart.

"We can't keep this up," Jet declared tersely, making it back to her side with her brother. "We have to get to the _Fadmon_ HQ and take the head off the prickle-snake. Maybe then the fans will disperse once we tell them the battle's done."

"I'll go with Jet," Azula volunteered, eyes dry, her fervor renewed by her beloved Kisu's sacrifice. "Zuko, you and Aang and the rest need to hold the crowd off. We need a distraction!"

"Short of stripping naked, I don't think…" he trailed off. His eyes widened. "Wait, what am I thinking? Of course I have a distraction!"

Jet raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna strip naked?"

The Fire Lord's eyes flattened. "Only if the situation becomes desperate. But I have just the thing for now."

They separated. Zuko weaved through the throng, shoving would-be adversaries out of his path and frying those who were more than eager to get their mitts on him. He headed toward the mothership.

"Bring out the crates!" he shouted at the guards, who were holding off the girls surging around him.

They nodded. One hit a button while the other turned a crank, which lowered a platform beneath the grounded zeppelin's gondola. Two large crates rested on the wide metal platform, each shuddering as something within paced and pawed restlessly.

Zuko leapt on top of the massive boxes and unbolted the latches. The heavy wood doors fell open with a resounding boom. Two dark shadows with fire-bright eyes stirred and blinked back the daylight. Deep, menacing growls reverberated through Zuko's stomach as the creatures smelled the carnage all around them.

"Maiko! Kataang!" Zuko barked. _"Attack!"_

The two-headed viper dogs leapt out of their prisons, frothing around the mouth, their forked tongues scenting the air for prey. Three-inch yellowing talons dug into earth. The long, rigid spines around their hackles raised at the rich aroma of fear.

The nearest fans screamed and scattered as the beasts advanced, snapping at the slower fans, lunging at the ones that dared coo, "Here, puppy, puppy…" and turning them into minced viper-dog chow.

Maiko, a dreadfully hideous black beast who oozed despair and malice, snarled at group of girls wearing "ZUTARA FOREVAH!" T-shirts. They backed up against a large boulder, still giggling that Zuko—_THE Zuko_—had ordered his pet monster to devour them. The bitch took one flat-eyed look at the T-shirts and vomited acid bile over the fangirls.

Kataang, the smaller and "cuter" of the two creatures, seemed to prefer to play with his food before eating it. A Zutarian in full red-and-blue armor dangled from his jaws as the beast skipped about, throwing his spiny mass left and right with no regard for the feelings or safety of his enemies or allies. He was really quite silly, actually—a child's morbid imaginings brought to life, his fur striped with bright, gaudy colors, the voracious grin on his face almost childlike…except for the blood staining his grizzly maw.

Azula watched the massacre unfold in awe. She was impressed. Zuzu had actually managed to breed something useful. No offense to his coming brood, of course.

But they didn't have time to watch the monsters rampage through the _Fadmon_ army. They had a mission to accomplish.

"Let's go," she urged, and she and Jet raced toward the dojo.

* * *

"Who'd be dumb enough to give the old man that much brandy?" Sokka whispered, keeping his head ducked beneath the buffet in the dining room where they'd hidden from the rampaging Ozai. "Did they learn _nothing_ from the wedding? Everyone knows he'll drink as much as he can so he can purge the Firebending suppressant from his system."

Another loud boom had Sokka, Toph and Katara all cowering. Beyond the dining room doors, the ex-Fire Lord was terrorizing the palace staff, burning down the sunny yellow and lavender decorations adorning each half of the estate. Black scorch marks singed the crumbling walls where Toph and Ozai had duked it out for about five minutes before the Earthbender realized she couldn't compete with the inebriated and entirely unpredictable Firebender.

"Damn Drunken-fist style," she complained sullenly. "Why did it have to be Drunken-fist? Why couldn't it have been Completely-predictable-and-easy-to-counter-fist?"

"And speaking of predictable, where's Iroh?" Sokka asked irately.

"Probably doing the same thing we…we ahhhrrrggg…" Katara groaned.

"Are you okay?" her brother asked.

She regained herself, breathing deeply. "I'm fine…I just have a cramp from squatting here for so long." She shifted her weight and slid down. "What am I doing hiding here? I told Zuko I could take his dad on if things got out of hand."

"And what were you going to do? Nag him to death?" Sokka scowled. "You're in no condition to fight, Katara! And neither is Azula, but I wasn't about to stop _her._ I told Zuko I'd take care of you if something like this did happen, and there is no way I'm letting you face off with His Flaming Majesty!"

Another loud crash, this time closer.

"If you're gonna fight him, you're going to need water, and a lot of it," Toph said, ignoring Sokka's concern. If Katara said she could fight, she didn't doubt her friend, pregnant or not.

Katara stared at her, eyes widening suddenly. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Toph couldn't see it, but her friend's face went ash-white. She did, however, feel the sudden panicked lurch of her heart as it began jack-hammering in her chest.

"What do you mean?" she reached out and touched Katara's stomach. "What's wrong?"

"My water just broke."


	41. The Mercenary

**

* * *

The Mercenary

* * *

**

Jet kicked the doors to the old dojo open and rushed in ahead of Azula, who, despite her roundness, was quite quick on her feet in the heat of battle.

All around them, piles of printed issues of the _Fadmon_ leaflets stood in stacked towers as tall as a man or taller. Only a single lamp illuminated the vast space, the blinds having been drawn and the window shutters closed and boarded up tight.

The scuffle of a foot made Jet spin around.

"Whoever's there, show yourself!" he bellowed. "The fight's over. Your fangirls are defeated!" (Okay, that wasn't quite true) "Our armies outnumber you twenty to one!" (Also not true.) "Come out or we'll set the whole place on fire!" (Which they'd do anyhow, but only after they'd exited the building.)

The deep brown shadows shifted. Azula's senses pricked and she automatically sent a jet of flame toward the figure. It ducked, and the fireball ignited a tall stack of paper behind their attacker.

The shadowed man slowly stood. Jet and Azula both gasped. His silhouette was unmistakable.

"You!"

* * *

"Your majesty!" Hakoda joined Zuko, punching through a throng of lovestruck fangirls who kept gabbling the word _dilf_ like a bunch of quacking turtle-ducks. "We have to fall back!"

"We need to hang on a little longer!" Zuko argued loudly over the chorus of fangirl wails. "My sister and Jet are taking out the HQ. We just need to hold out."

"Zuko, it's no use. We can't overcome, even if the _Fadmon_ head is struck off. Don't you see?" He gestured at the carnage all around them. Fangirls had piled atop the fallen, humping the life out of the prone soldiers. Aang and Appa had somehow managed to encase themselves in another protective sphere of ice, despite the bevy of fans trying the melt the globe with their glomping; poor Smellerbee was being given a makeover; Pakku's snide remarks and disdainful sneer did nothing to repel his attackers; and The Duke was being tossed through the air like a beach ball. Hakoda's voice broke in despair. "It's hopeless!"

Zuko had never heard him sound so defeated—and the man had been crapped on plenty in his lifetime.

No. If nothing else, he would not allow this fight, this ridiculous shenanigan, of all things, to break the proud Water Tribe warrior!

"Where are those damn dogs?" Zuko cried. He couldn't lose this war!

Hakoda pointed towards the trees, keeping his eyes averted in shame. Maiko and Kataang, it turned out, had discovered they could lick their own… Well, suffice to say they were preoccupied by their new discovery, and were being butchered by the gleeful Zutarians, who stabbed mercilessly at them with barbs of loathing.

The Fire Lord's heart sank at the loss of his ace-in-the-hole. This was not how it was supposed to end. Zuko refused to be defeated. He would not shame his family, his wife, his nation by entering into this war without an exit strategy!

At that moment, The Boulder strolled past, grinning, invincible. The girls who trailed him were trembling weakly, their eyes glazed and mouths hanging open. When they tentatively reached out to touch him, they almost immediately collapsed, stricken, to lie twitching in the earth.

"Boulder…" Zuko couldn't believe what he'd just seen. "How…what?"

"The Boulder is not surprised the fangirls are struck by his magnificent muscles," Boulder said, flexing a juicy bicep. He winked at Zuko. "The Boulder knows the ladies—and some boys—like a good show." He growled and made his pectorals dance for a group of approaching enemy girls. They stopped in their tracks, dazed, and fell promptly to the ground, foaming from the mouth.

_A good show…_

In an Iroh-clear moment, Zuko realized there was a way to save them all.

He looked at Hakoda, slumped in defeat. Stared around at the other soldiers, strapping, boundless men and women devoted to their cause, to their nation, to everything that made their world great.

Yes, he could save them all. But it would require a great sacrifice.

* * *

"Princess." Haru stepped forward, his long, auburn mane reflecting the red-orange of fire, his green eyes glinting with cool calculation. He gave an obsequious bow and glared up at Jet. "And do I have the pleasure of addressing you as 'Your Highness' yet?" he asked sneeringly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Haru," Azula snapped. "What are you doing here? Why did you leave the palace?"

"Why?" The fire behind him flared. Glowing ash and embers flitted around them like demonic snow. "You have a gall to ask me _why?_" Angry lines carved Haru's face. "Azula, I _love_ you. I've always loved you. But then you got with child and you didn't so much as _look_ at me when the question of the baby's paternity came up."

"But I don't know _who_ the father is!" she shouted back, her voice choked with frustration.

"And that's exactly the problem." He paced slowly around the pair like a panther-snake sizing up its prey. "I gave myself to you a hundred percent. Played all your mind games, let you do terrible, wonderful things to me. And in the end, you treated me like a discarded toy!" He slammed a fist against a tower of paper, knocking it into the growing blaze behind him. The fire expanded, sending heat waves rippling across Haru's broad shoulders, bathing him in the angry light. His hair, usually so glossy and picture perfect, came alive beneath the scorching air, rising and writhing like snakes around his head. "No one else has been as loyal and faithful to you, Princess. I'm your dog, and I allowed you to make me your dog. _That's_ why I left. I had to prove to everyone I was a man, that I was more than the chained concubine in the princess's chamber. I've found my way in the world now, Azula." His voice had calmed so it was as deep and deadly as an undertow.

"Doing what?" Jet interrupted, gesturing around the dojo. "Printing lies? You're the one behind _Fadmon!_"

"Actually," a new voice broke in, "he's just the hired help."

Azula turned and recoiled in shock. "You!"

His peasant clothing had been replaced with luxurious silk robes, the scruffy goatie tamed into a finely combed point. He looked diabolical, and not just Long-Feng diabolical; really evil-genius diabolical.

Jet stared. "Waitaminit....is that..._the cabbage merchant?"_

"I have a name!" Cabbageman huffed indignantly. "It's—"

"_You_ can't be the ring leader behind _Fadmon,_" Azula interrupted, waving a dismissive hand.

"Oh, but I am." He cackled and rubbed his hands together in the way only evil geniuses did. "See, when the Fire Lord eloped with his lovely wife a few days before the royal wedding, I was there to witness the ceremony after he accidentally crushed my cabbage cart. He paid me enough shut-up money to start this little enterprise. I vowed that day would be the last time anyone hurt my poor, defenseless cabbages! So I—"

"Zuko and Katara eloped?" Jet said incredulously, interrupting Cabbageman's evil-plan revelation speech. "Those little sneaks!"

"Zuzu wouldn't have left something like that off the books," the princess reasoned skeptically. "He's just too anal with the coffers."

"It would be under kitchen expenses," Cabbageman pooh-poohed, a touch miffed no one seemed to be taking him seriously. "A lifetime's worth of cabbages is in the palace budget. What, did that never strike you as strange?" He cackled at the stricken look that had popped up on the princess's face. "Who eats that much cabbage? I mean, really! Do you know how long those things last?"

"So all this time, the Fire Nation has been funding the enterprise they're now seeking to destroy." Jet mused over the irony. What a twist!

"And no one's going to take it away from me. The world owes me for all the suffering I've been through! All the indignity! I will reap my vengeance and destroy the pride of all those who dared to besmirch the name of—"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Azula swooped her arms in twin arcs and gathered a ring of crackling lightning around her. Her skin tingled with sparks and she focused it at Cabbageman. "This ends now."

A jagged bolt of blue-white light raced outward from her fingertips, only to splash harmlessly against a thick wall of stone that jutted out from beneath the wood plank floor.

"Stop right there, Azula," Haru intoned with deadly calm. "You're not going to harm him."

The princess regarded her former lover incredulously. "And who's going to stop me?" she asked on a half laugh. "You?"

"Yes."

Cabbageman hooted. "He works for me, Your Highness. My hired mercenary, my very own Earthbender bodyguard." His gaze almost lovingly caressed Haru.

"You're no mercenary," Azula scoffed at the pretty Earthbender. "Now stand aside."

"I don't want to hurt you, princess." He took a defensive stance. "But I will if I have to."

"Guys, take it easy, c'mon," Jet cajoled lightly, eyes darting between the two. He could feel the tension mounting in the blazing room like a lion-turtle about to take a big, stinking dump. "It doesn't need to come to this—"

"It does," Azula replied evenly. She smiled wickedly up at Haru. "You think you can stand up to me? You think you can defeat me?"

"I am." Haru planted his feet apart. "I will."

"Talk is cheap." Blue fire burst from her hands. "I'm going to enjoy burning you, love. I always do."

Jet flinched as rock met flame. The epic battle that ensued flung molten slag and superheated earth and stone in all directions. In all her ultra-competitive glory, round with baby and glowing with the light of challenge, Azula threw fireball after fireball at Haru, who matched each punch, kick and flame with the strong, powerful, graceful moves of a master Earthbender. Solid. Unyielding. Patient. He truly had morphed from molehill to mountain. Towers of tinder-dry paper lit up into mini infernos, and the air grew thick with ash and smoke and hot, dry grit.

Cabbageman inched away from the fray, but Jet couldn't let him escape. He skirted the pillars of flame and pounced on the old man. "Wait right there!"

"_Saurerkraut punch!"_

A weak, wet, flabby fist smacked Jet square on the bridge of his nose. He was momentarily stunned, then irritated by the stupid attack. He gathered Cabbageman up by the lapels of his shiny evil suit to show him what a real punch should feel like.

And then a burning started behind his eyeballs. Jet tried to blink the pain away, but it only got worse. Soon, stinging tears ran down his cheeks from puffy eyes soaked in vinegar. As befitted a truly malicious villain, Cabbageman kicked the Freedom Fighter in the groin, and as Jet squeaked and fell to his knees, the merchant-turned-antagonist fled.

"Azula!" Jet just barely managed to croak. "He's getting away!"

But the princess was too engrossed by her fight with her old lover. This new side of Haru intrigued her—his spirit was pumped to white-hot intensity, his supple, firm musculature primed by his ferocious confidence.

She'd snuff it out like a cinder beneath her heel.

"You can't beat me," she called languidly, teasing Haru with another series of fireballs aimed at his feet. He danced lithely away, his jade-green eyes never leaving hers. "Moreover, you won't."

"Don't push me, princess." Haru yanked a disc of rock from the ground below, sending a shower of wood chips up from the floor. It rained fire in return.

"I'll push you however I want, however much I want," Azula taunted with grim satisfaction as she folded her arms across her chest. Her relaxed stance would fool any other combatant into thinking she'd let her guard down. But with her very pregnant belly sticking out and taunting Haru, it was clear she was goading him. "You never retaliate, Haru. You never fight for what you want. You run, you bow to the wishes of others, you wait until someone else leads you to battle. But you never initiate, do you?" She laughed a little harshly. "That's why you were always my favorite. So easy to manipulate."

"No." Haru shook his head in denial, a curtain of hair obscuring the pain on his face.

"You didn't step up as the father of this baby," she accused. Deep lines of hurt appeared around her mouth, her eyes. "_You_ didn't fight for me. _You_ left, Haru. Not me."

"No!"

Fire engulfed the rafters, greedily eating up the timber. They were surrounded by blazing tongues of flame, hell on earth. Jet screamed, blind, feeling and hearing the roaring inferno inching ever closer, but he couldn't be heard.

"It's always easier to do nothing, to cave to authority, to ignore your real problems, to run," Azula shouted hurtfully at Haru, the ache in her heart threatening to burst her chest. "And that's what you always do. That doesn't make you a man, Haru. It makes you a _coward!_"

"Shut up!" The disc of rock flew straight at Azula.

She dodged easily, but Haru whirled his great, angry strength, bowing the stone frisbee's trajectory.

It crashed through a load-bearing pillar. The blazing roof creaked, shuddered, gave.

Jet's vision cleared just in time. He cried out with all his wretched heart and soul as flaming timbers tumbled down from the ceiling and right on top of the pregnant princess and her horrified lover.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter took so long--I have a lot going on, and this part of the story needed to balance ha-ha with uh-oh. Thanks to everyone for 1000 reviews and for sticking around!**


	42. Darkest Hours

**Sorry about the long span between updates! Been busy! Hope this chapter's worth the wait!**

**

* * *

Darkest Hours

* * *

**

Ozai smelled fear. Delicious fear.

"Come out, come out wherever you are..." he cooed as he stalked the palace for his prey: the little blind Earthbender (it was really a shame he had to kill her, since she was such a firebrand); the Water Tribe warrior (another shame, since he was rather brilliant despite being a prick); and his lovely daughter-in-law (a really, really big shame, as she was carrying Ozai's grandchild, but you had to break a few eggs if you wanted to rule the world....)

He listened hard, discerning the patter of feet from the roar of flames and panicked cries of palace servants. Above that, he could hear the quick, gasping breaths of three frightened children being hunted.

"Ready or not," he murmured with a smile as he strolled into a seemingly empty dining room, "here I—"

He sniffed the air and frowned. That wasn't the smell of fear. Fear smelled like bad candy and beer-filled sweat. Fear smelled like that moment just before you started an exam, but realized you hadn't studied at all. Fear smelled like lightning and dead things, like Azula's room after Mai had come over for a play date.

What he smelled in that room was organic. Earthy. Familiar, but totally alien, too.

All of a sudden, he knew that smell. He couldn't forget it. He'd been with Ursa when he'd last smelled it, the day Zuko had come screaming into the world.

A nut of anxiety tightened over the bolt of dread in his stomach. It was a father's hard-earned gut reaction to a pregnant woman's distress.

The panting cries grew louder and more labored as he neared.

"Don't come any closer," Toph's disembodied voice warned.

"We have you surrounded," Sokka said, voice quavering.

Ozai glanced over her shoulder, spotting the young man behind him pointing an antique sword ripped from the wall at his neck. It wasn't sharp, but he had no doubt Sokka would try to hack his neck in two with it anyhow. Toph was probably hiding in the stonework, waiting to pop up from the earth like some kind of giant night crawler on steroids to surprise him.

"Where's Katara?" Ozai asked carefully.

At that, the Fire Lady gave a low moan. "Help me…" Katara whimpered faintly. "Oh, spirits, help me..."

A flutter of something old and tired and desperate swam through the old Fire Lord's memory like a salmon-serpent on its last legs. Ripples of a long-suppressed moment in his life fanned through his senses…

* * *

_Oh, spirits, help me…_

Ursa had said the exact same thing as blood gushed from between her milky thighs, the delicate flower of her womanhood torn and desecrated as she pushed their grasping son out into the cruel, harsh light.

_Save my son…_

His beloved Ursa, the woman he'd chosen as his life partner, hadn't cared for what happened to her. Save the boy. Save the crown prince. He would be Ozai's pride and joy. That had been all she'd cared about.

_Spirits, help me…_

The palace physicians had done everything they could for her. _Everything,_ they insisted. But the hemorrhaging wouldn't stop. Ozai killed one of them in his rage, dashing him against the wall and snapping his neck. The rest had been banished in haste.

Mad and desperate, Ozai himself went to the Northern Water Tribe on the fastest skiff in the fleet. He kidnapped a Waterbending healer. And he secreted her into the palace to save his beloved.

He'd thought he'd never forget the deadly calm and those ice-blue eyes as the healer bargained for the fate of her people. He'd thought he'd never forget she'd made him swear on the tainted blood she'd pulled from between Ursa's legs, warm and sticky on his fingers. It had smelled of new life, of death, of the earth newly charred after a bushfire. But the woman who'd saved his wife and preserved the Northern Water Tribe from attack for the next sixteen years had faded from his memory like moonlight at dawn. He hadn't even asked for her name.

No one knew about his bargain—he'd made sure of that. Even Ursa didn't know she'd been healed—her fever had been too high, her body too racked from the damage her son had caused, the one who, even as she lay dying, suckled at her breast, draining her life away.

Absolutely no one knew. No one had reminded him of his travesty. And that was why, in his lust for power, in the years of growing bitterness, he'd forgotten his blood oath, his promise to a proud, strong Waterbending healer who'd foolishly turned her back on the Fire Lord before returning to the icy cold waters from whence she'd come:

"_I swear never to harm to a member of the Water Tribe, the people who saved my beloved Ursa."_

* * *

His reverie faded abruptly. He glanced down. "You need to get Katara to a doctor," he directed sternly. "Right now."

Sokka approached him charily, sword still aimed at the bulging sinews of his long neck. "As if we'd turn our backs on you."

"You need to get her help right now," Ozai insisted more emphatically.

And then Toph looked into the heart of the old Fire Lord. Felt the erratic beating, the fear coursing through him which he somehow kept out of his voice.

"Right now," Ozai repeated, "or she and the baby will die."

* * *

"Azula!" Jet croaked, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. "Princess!"

All around him, the fire blazed, voraciously devouring the dry wood timbers. The princess could be anywhere under this mess. And with her…the baby. _Their_ baby.

That stupid Haru! He always had more hair than brains. Jet tried to crawl to his knees, but the acrid smoke was so thick and his head so heavy, he had to lie back down.

Despair clutched at his heart. He was going to die here in this ridiculous pyre of lies and scandal. Azula was lost. Their baby would never—

The fire shrank, dimmed, retracted into itself like clouds of orange silk being drawn into a bolt hole. And suddenly, there was nothing but the afterglow of heat and the veins of cinders tattooed into the blackened timbers. Soft, gray ash fluttered down and feathered his cheek, kisses from fiery demons going home to bed.

The air cleared as miraculously, and dimly, Jet heard his name being called. Hands grabbed, hauled, dragged him up, carried him up and out, and he became gradually aware that he was outside and among his fellow soldiers. A violent fit of coughing cleared his lungs of poisonous air, and then, nothing.

"Azula..." he rasped. He opened sticky eyes to see the very unwelcoming lined face of Pakku hovering over him, frowning. The shadows outside were long—how much time had passed?

"Easy, there, son." The Waterbender pushed him back down gently. "Give me a little more time to heal these burns."

"Where's the princess?" Jet asked through cracked lips. "And Haru…?"

"They're in another tent."

The tightening around Pakku's mouth made Jet sit up. "What happened? The baby—?"

A distant scream of agony pierced the air. It was Azula's.

Jet leapt off the pallet, bowling Pakku over as he stumblingly made his way across the camp where the headquarters had been established on the beach by the Unagi's Bay. The stunned, half-dressed state of many of the other soldiers didn't register with Jet as he arrowed toward the second infirmary tent.

He punched through the canvas flaps. "Azula!" he cried as soon as he spotted her. Relief swamped him at seeing her alive, but it quickly evaporated as he took in her panting, sweating state, her mother gripping her hand, her legs spread, a dark-haired head crowning wetly from—

Jet fainted.

* * *

"Lightweight." Ursa snorted.

"OHHHHHHRRRRGGHHHHHH!" Azula moaned. "WHY DIDN'T I SHAVE MY LEGS FIRST?"

"I told you so, dear," Ursa murmured as her daughter bore down again. "Breathe, Azula."

"I CAN'T BREATHE."

"Just breathe."

"ARRRRRHHHHHHGGGHHH!" She inhaled as though she were pulling a heated spike through her chest. "WHY IS THIS SO HARD?"

"Princess!" Haru burst into the tent, a badly wrapped bandage dangling from his bared torso. Half-healed burns mottled his sexily sculpted chest. Two female Waterbending healers fluttered after him like angry butterflies in smitten protest, demanding he lie back down and take off his pants.

"GET THE HELL OUT." Azula bellowed at him in an unearthly deep voice, making everyone in the tent shudder. "YOU DID THIS TO ME."

Undaunted, Haru went to her side and grabbed her hand. "I did. I'm sorry."

"WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?" she roared. A sob broke through, lifting her cry about five octaves when she screamed, "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME MISS YOU?"

"I'm sorry," Haru repeated softly as the Firebender crushed his fingers. "I'm so sorry..."

"I HATE YOU," she sobbed as a fresh flood of tears tracked clean little rivers over her blotchy, sooty cheeks. "I HATE YOU SO MUCH."

"I know." Haru kissed her sweetly on the sweaty forehead. "I know."

Azula's anguished cries washed over them as she pushed again, screaming and gnashing her teeth and begging Agni for the ordeal to end. The Waterbending healer came in with a pair of scissors, slit her open wider to help the baby. It felt like an eternity as the child's head squeezed out, followed by tiny collapsed shoulders. Everything below her waist was on fire, being torn apart with a million fish hooks. And through it all, Azula could only think that somehow, she deserved every second of agony as punishment, deserved every moment of sweet torture as reward.

Aang slipped into the tent as the healer attending the business end of the birth supported the baby's head, its body still lodged within the princess, and cleaned its nostrils and mouth of goo. The Avatar watched in wonder as Azula, the fearsome Fire Princess of perfection who'd conquered Ba Seng Se and ruthlessly terrorized friends and family alike gave bloody, messy, stinky, painful-looking birth.

And he fell in love with her. Just a little.

"One more push!" the healer said.

Azula heaved. She felt as though every muscle and vein and blood vessel would burst with the effort, the pain so intense she thought she'd pass out or die. Her mind was a blur of colors and sensations, her heart so full and her eyes running a continuous liquid stream of anger and sorrow and joy and fear. She was vaguely aware she was babbling things in that guttural voice that was not hers, but some monster's who'd risen from her womb. At some point in her delusional state, she believed she'd promised never to eat watermelon again.

All of a sudden, the pressure was gone, the pain dulled, and Azula felt everything in her body let go.

She breathed. Sweet, glorious air filled her lungs.

And then another sharp pain lanced through her, making her spine go rigid. She moaned in surprise.

"Whoa!"

Something passed through her, heavy like a stone. It landed wetly on the ground, and the Waterbender dove to pick it up.

Aang went a little green.

"A little eager to pass the afterbirth, I guess," the healer chuckled. "So, who's hungry?"

But Azula hadn't heard her. She'd passed out.

* * *

Katara didn't know what was going on. The pain had rushed upon her so quickly, she'd fallen to her knees and clutched her stomach. And though she'd never given birth, she knew something was wrong.

The pain was astounding. She didn't realize her tightly gripped fists were carving bloody crescents into her palms, didn't realize she'd soiled herself because of the intensity of the agony that seemed to rip through every muscle as though she were made of tissue. Her throat was raw from screaming. Dimly, she knew Ozai was close, and if he would just get on with it and end her, maybe the pain would stop.

She moaned, calling to him, begging him to make it stop.

Oh, there he was. Thank the spirits. He would take care of her.

So she let go.


	43. Perfection

**

* * *

Perfection

* * *

**

Azula opened her eyes, feeling light and strangely settled, as though she were a balloon that had finally drifted down from the lofty heavens to settle on the soft, sweet, dewy grass. As her eyes focused, the sight before her filled her heart with a pure, luminous feeling that wiggled all the way to her pointy-nailed fingertips.

Haru sat in a chair, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms, staring lovingly down at the child she'd made—_they'd_ made. On his right, Jet grinned hugely, wonder glowing in his usually cunning eyes. And Aang, the sweet, gentle monk she'd so mercilessly tortured, sat on Haru's left, tickling the baby's tiny prune feet, eyes so soft they looked like clouds.

"My baby…" she whispered.

The three looked up, their smiles bright and sunny and all for her. Ursa hove into view. Kneeling at her side, she gently bathed her daughter's forehead with a cool cloth. "You did so well, my sweet," she cooed, pride beaming from her face. "You were magnificent."

The words of praise washed over her, and Azula smiled, basking in love and adoration.

"Say hello to your daughter, princess." Haru brought the baby over, Azula's own little girl. She sat up gingerly, dull aches and sharp pains slowing her eager movement. The Earthbender eased the bundle into her arms, his dark hands seeming huge next to the infant.

She was so light and delicate, and yet the baby filled Azula's heart with a weight that anchored her restless spirit. Tugging the blanket away from her cheeks, she gazed down at her child's soft, pearly, round face, her silky pate of ebony hair, her tiny, wrinkled, grasping hand. She was the result of an act of sensual selfishness and nine months of tough love and sacrifice. _This_ was the thing Azula had been born to create, her legacy, her future.

And then Azula knew.

A happy, ecstatic sob hiccoughed through her, and she clutched the precious life she'd made to her breast. She'd finally achieved perfection in her own baby girl.

"Azuria," she declared. "That's her name. My sweet little girl, Azuria…."

Ursa glanced up, dared the three young men in the room to protest her granddaughter's namesake. Azula could've named the infant Peepee Bunnybottom and she would not have blinked, because she was _hers._

Zuko strolled into the tent then, grinning broadly at his mother, sister and niece, three generations of women in his family, together at peace…perhaps for the last time. "We have cause to celebrate, I hear," he said.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Azula asked in wonder, unable to tear her eyes away. "Look, Zuzu, I made her. I _made_ her out of bits of me." She caressed the soft little cheek and the long lashes fanning over her skin. Her voice came breathily. "I can't stop looking at her, Zuko. I think I love her." She cuddled her close, burying her nose and inhaling the fresh baby scent. "Oh, Azuria…you're finally here!"

The Fire Lord smiled, no longer discomfited by the softer side of Azula. It suited her…like a coat of marshmallows on a boarcupine.

"Uh, Zuko…" Jet began slowly, eyeing him up and down, "not that we don't appreciate the show but…why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

He glanced down at his nakedness. His cheeks flushed. "It was…uh…strategy."

"And here I thought he was just taking after his dad," Aang said. "You just can't get that man to put one on."

"Strategy?" Azula's brain switched into military gear and she sat bolt upright. "Oh, gods! The war—!"

"Is over," Ursa said gently, urging her daughter to relax and lie back against the pillows. Azuria fussed and the new mother rocked her gently. Her tiny mewls increased and, in a stroke of maternal genius, Azula knew what she had to do. Without a second thought, she pulled one side of her robe down, exposing her aching, engorged breast with its dark, distended nipple. Dewy milk squirted in a high-pressured arch across the tent, raining down on the three shocked would-be fathers. Aang screamed as he was sprayed with colostrum.

"You couldn't have given us a warning first? Or maybe an umbrella?" Jet sputtered, wiping his face on his sleeve. He sniffed the stain and gagged. "You coulda' taken someone's eye out with that!"

Azula snorted her contempt. She didn't care who saw her breast or what they were showered in—her daughter needed food _now_ and nothing was going to stop her from feeding her baby! She maneuvered Azuria's tiny, open mouth over her breast. The little princess sucked fiercely, and began gulping down her first meal greedily.

"Your brother performed spectacularly," Ursa went on, satisfied by her daughter's first feeding. "He truly proved himself to be Fire Lord today."

"Zuzu?" Azula looked to her half-naked brother in askance. She inhaled sharply as Azuria chomped down hard in protest at her mother's movement, and she shifted and lay back. "What happened? You didn't surrender, did you?"

Zuko's cheeks heated. "No…I mean, not exactly." He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I just…gave them what they wanted."

The princess pulled a face. "What are you talking about?"

"I followed your advice. I gave them what they wanted." He cleared his throat. "Me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Jet rubbed at his temples. "Are you saying…?"

"The situation got desperate." Zuko said it flatly. "So I…er…"

Jet gawked. "You _didn't._"

"He did," Aang chimed in, grinning. "And he got a few others to do it, too."

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" Haru asked, bewildered.

"The _Fadmon_ armies—_your_ armies—" Ursa wasn't about to let the Earthbender's traitorous actions go unnoticed, especially if he intended to become a member of the royal household "—they had the troops outnumbered. So my darling son went straight for the jugular and vanquished them by hitting them where they're weakest."

Haru blinked slowly, processing this information as though he were masticating a small rock. "So the naked and half-naked troops all over the place…" He trailed off as his brain began piecing bits of the disturbing scene all around him together. The prone, twitching fangirls, the foaming mouths, exploded heads…Haru could only imagine what Zuko and the others had done to fell an army of hungry fanatics….

Oh, gods, he really wished he hadn't just imagined it. He closed his eyes and tried to burn the images away by thinking of hair ribbons and quiche.

Jet kept smirking, liking where his dirty mind was taking him.

Hakoda walked in at that moment, also shirtless, a preening messenger hawk perched on his shoulder. Azula had to stifle the urge to ogle his leathery good looks—Hakoda's, not the hawk's. Something inside her wanted to quack "dilf" repeated as the fangirls had. What a strange compunction.

"Fire Lord, an urgent message from the palace," Katara's father said gravely.

Zuko took to scroll and hastily opened it. His eyes grew huge, and his face paled to the color of chalk.

A cold chill trickled down Azula's spine just then. Motherhood apparently heightened the sixth sense for danger and bad things, and she clutched Azuria to her chest as a stone of dread made her spirit plunge. "Zuko? What's wrong?"

He whirled away and was just heading out of the tent as he said, "Dad's on the loose," leaving his friends gasping in shock.

He didn't wait for them. Couldn't. He headed straight for Appa. The bison, sensing Zuko's turmoil, did not complain when he leaped onto his neck, jerked on the reins too sharply and barked a sharp "Yip, yip!"

Appa pointed them toward the Fire Nation, sensing the crackle of wrongness in the air. Angry storm clouds heavy with rain and pregnant with lightning thickened in the sky, their rheumatic oppression easing over the land like a wet, woolen blanket of dread.

A great darkness hovered on the horizon.

* * *

**Apologies for the long period between updates, but these last few chapters are painful. Thanks for sticking with me.**


	44. Still

**Just in time for Mother's Day! Sorry about the long wait, but I'm in the home stretch now. Hopefully, it'll be worth it. **

* * *

**Still…

* * *

**

"_Save my baby!"_

The words were barely audible, lost on the breath stealing from Katara's lungs, mangled by agony and terror and the rushing of blood in everyone's ears.

Toph couldn't stop the tears pouring from her sightless eyes. Couldn't make her hands stop shaking. Couldn't say or do anything to help because for once in her short life, she was absolutely helpless against this. She let her friend dig her claws into her useless flesh, let her wrench her wrist around until it ached with bruises and deep, dark red welts.

"_Save my baby…"_ Katara pleaded again, her breath shallow. Another sob bubbled up. _"Oh, gods…"_

Sokka bathed his sister's forehead. "It's okay, Katara, just try to breathe…Gran-Gran will be here soon…" It wasn't true. He didn't know where Gran-Gran was. The palace had emptied when Ozai had begun his rampage.

They were alone.

"Mom…" the Waterbender whimpered. "I want mom!" And then, as if she'd just remembered, she began to cry, her sobs mute, her face contorted with despair.

Ozai observed from his spot in the corner. By necessity, his mind had removed him from the scene, forcing him to be a witness to the event unfolding before him like an overripe onion hitting the ground, its squishy, fetid layers curling messily over the cold marble floor. But emotion had not yet deserted him—it railed like a microburst in his hard heart. "She needs to push," he said, keeping his voice monotone. "The baby needs to get out. He needs to breathe—"

"Shut up!" Sokka snarled. "What do you know about giving birth? What do you know about anything except death and destruction?"

Ozai stayed rooted, hands cuffed behind him by several straps of iron Toph had hastily bent around his arms. His eyes stayed anchored to Katara's face, a litany of emotions passing behind those keen yellow eyes. He refused to let his fear show through.

"The baby's coming," Katara gasped. _"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…"_

Toph didn't utter a sound when Katara broke her arm as she bore down.

"AUUUGHHHH!" The cry wrenched every soul in hearing range, and some beyond that. It was not the sound of giving birth—it was the anguished cry of death.

Sokka gingerly lifted the blankets from between his sister's legs, told himself not to faint at the blood, the feces, the ugly stretching things that he knew were involved in every being's existence. But this was Katara, his little sister, the girl who'd washed his socks and thrown snowballs and gone penguin sledding…

"AUUUUUUUGGGHHH!" Katara screamed again and doubled over sitting up. She sobbed. "It's not right. Something's not right."

"The baby's in distress," Ozai murmured. "The cord might be wrapped around its neck."

Sokka glanced at him. He looked down, prayed he knew what he was doing. He eased his fingers into the bloodied opening, imagining it was nothing more than a clogged sewer pipe, searching frantically for something that would tell him about the condition of his sister, of her baby…anything.

But all he could feel were hard and soft lumps and his sister's sticky, oozing lifeblood. He didn't know what he was looking for. And he couldn't deal with not knowing. He knew everything. Panic seeped into his heart, cold and sharp and suffocating.

"I can help," the Firebender said coolly. "Release me. Let me save my grandchild."

The Water Tribe warrior shook his head. "No."

Ozai's placid tone cracked. "Then let me save your sister. Sokka, look at her. She needs help."

"She doesn't need it from you!"

"AAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHH!"

Toph stood like a statue, letting her fractured bones twist and grind, letting the physical pain be the only thing she felt. Her heart couldn't bear anything more.

"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHH!"

"Sokka!" Ozai boomed. "You can't fix things this time! Let someone else try!"

He wanted to. Oh, he really, really wanted to turn things over, hand responsibility for two lives over to someone else. But this was _his_ sister, _his_ niece or nephew. And that man…that _monster_ had been the one to cause this.

He turned away from the only other person who could help. "Katara, just…just keep doing what you're doing, okay? Breathe, just like you practiced, okay? Hoo-hoo, hee-hee…"

"I KNOW HOW TO BREATHE!" she shrieked.

But Sokka didn't let her faze him from his task. "Hoo-hoo, hee-hee…"

She started to follow along, but abandoned the practice at the next agonizing contraction.

And then Sokka could see the head. Wet and purple and—

* * *

Appa knew something was wrong. It was in the air. It was in his bones. And the Firebender straddling his neck radiated it out in stinking waves that made the bison itchy. So he flew fast, as fast as he could go despite his bruised and aching body, as if he could outrun time, outrun the storm clouds crowding him on all sides. Tongues of lightning lashed him on, taunting him, telling him and his passenger there was no way they'd make it in time.

At one point, Zuko, still focused on the land ahead, reached out and caught a white-hot bolt of energy jagging toward Appa's armored head as though it were nothing. He tossed it back into the sky with the carelessness of a man throwing his socks into the laundry hamper, glaring around with his bad eye and challenging the other clouds to try that again and see if they could slow his faithful mount's progress.

As soon as they got closer to the Fire Nation palace, Appa knew he'd done the right thing by pushing himself to exhaustion. Panting heavily though he was, his enormous heart thundering in his mammoth ribcage, he could smell the Waterbender girl's anguish.

Zuko leapt off before Appa even hit the ground and pounded toward the palace. He barely registered the stunned onlookers milling around.

"Zuko!" A figure kept pace with him, a flurry of maroon robes flapping out behind him. "Ozai's on the loose! You can't go in alone—"

"Where's my wife?" he turned and asked. He was surprised to find Iroh keeping pace with him. "What are you doing out here? Where's Katara?"

"Trapped inside with Toph and Sokka. They were trying to fight him off—"

"And why weren't you with them?" Zuko shouted. He blinked. "No, wait, why weren't you with me on Kyoshi?"

"I got left behind. And I wasn't in the palace at the time of the attack." The elderly general pointed to the remnants of fiery carnage and they followed the path of destruction. "I'm sorry, Zuko, this is my fault—"

"There'll be time for inquisitions later," he growled. He was concerned with only one thing right now, and that was the safety of his wife and unborn child.

They skidded down one hallway, turned left at another, seeing the scorched and molten evidence of a fierce fight between Toph and Ozai. The structure here was shaky—so much marble and stone had been displaced that parts of the roof had collapsed in, allowing shafts of sunlight to pierce the smoke- and dust-filled corridors.

"This way," Iroh uttered. "I can smell him." He sniffed the air and moaned, "My brandy!"

"Katara!" The Fire Lord scanned the area, poking his head into one room after another. The doors had all been kicked off their hinges. Tapestries burned, soot marred everything. But he refused to allow himself to worry. When he faced his father, he would end him, and he'd need all his strength to do it. He couldn't waste his energy on fear.

He knew he was getting closer. The thick air closed his throat as he burst into what used to be a dining room.

The tableau awaiting him was burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

Katara, sobbing helplessly, limply, in an armchair stained crimson with her blood that seemed to gush like a waterfall from between her legs. She gripped Toph's mangled left arm, the bone jutting unnaturally in odd angles. The Earthbender had gone catatonic.

And Sokka, clutching a bundle wrapped in his own shirt, frowning down at the unmoving thing, anguish twisting his face grotesquely as he dandled the limp—

Zuko's heart was ripped from his chest.

* * *

Iroh watched it all unfold in slow motion, his hearing tuned right out as he imagined Toph's had. He couldn't hear his nephew's heart-wrenching sobs as he lurched to his wife's side, couldn't hear Katara beg him for forgiveness, couldn't hear their renewed cries for mercy to the spirits as Sokka handed their still-born child over, its tiny body wrapped in a bloodied, sweat-stained Water Tribe warrior's tunic.

The old general had seen much loss in his life, had buried his own son before his time. But this…this was more profound than anything else he'd ever imagined.

He collapsed onto his knees. His heart had given up. So much tragedy. So much pain.

How could he stand when the world was tumbling down?

How could he protect the things he cherished when fate conspired against them all?

How could he not have noticed the intent look on his brother's face as Ozai heated his makeshift manacles and melted them off?

* * *

The searing agony of molten metal o his flesh was worth it, Ozai told himself later. It took away from the ache in his chest, gave him something else to focus on.

And then he was free. And no one was looking at him, despite the smell of burned flesh, of blood and iron vapors, of the sickening sizzle of his destroyed forearms.

He didn't have any other choice. The Earthbender's arm was broken, and she wouldn't be able to unbend his cuffs in her state of shock.

Ozai quietly rose from his place. This next part would be tricky.

"Zuko."

His son—oh, gods, _his son_—looked up, eyes overflowing with tears, red and sick and angry, not unlike that day he'd burned him in the Agni Kai arena. Ozai hadn't shown mercy then.

"Why?" the young Fire Lord rasped. He got shakily to his feet, but his wife clung to him, and their combined grief staggered them both. Katara howled as Zuko collapsed onto his knees, unable to stand under the weight of his sorrow. Katara scooted away from Ozai as he approached, babbling, fevered, weak.

Just like Ursa had been.

Silvery eyes flashed in his mind, the vow he'd made reflected in their mirror depths.

"No!" Sokka launched himself up. He swung a wild fist out. Ozai caught his hand, closed long, damaged fingers over it, and crossed the warrior's arms over his chest gently, as if he were simply folding Sokka into his own embrace.

"Stop, Sokka." His voice was so smooth, so free of guilt, that it only enraged Sokka further. He thrashed, throwing the meanest insults and accusations and threats at him. And Ozai let him for about three seconds before he slipped around him and put him in a sleeper hold.

Down went Sokka.

"Are you going to kill us, too?" Zuko asked, gathering his rage, his hate, all the feelings that had ever driven him to become like his father, the ones he had never allowed to consume him. If he thought vengeance would soothe some of the pain away, he'd kill him right now, massacre his body and then savage the corpse. If it would take any of the pain away, he'd torture Ozai until he was nothing. Anything to get rid of this abyss…

"Give me the baby." Ozai said it so quietly, Zuko thought he hadn't heard right. "Please."

Katara keened.

"You will not defile my child," Zuko growled as he slowly got to his feet, mustering up the last of his strength.

"Give me my grandchild. Please, son."

"Get away from us!"

Impatient, Ozai was there in a flash. He didn't have a choice. He was running out of time. He scooped up the grandson who had yet to take his first breath; tuned out the outrage, the screams of terror, the approach of at least two men bent on destroying him before he finished his task.

He focused down on the muted little life, the prunish, underdeveloped child that had been too eager to escape his mother's womb to meet his big, bad grandfather.

_Grandson. _Ozai had a grandson.

The ex-Fire Lord breathed a shallow little breath, barely a hiccough. He felt for those threads of energy dancing through the air around tiny baby, separated tiny filaments of life and death, positive and negative, with nothing but the strength of his lusty will.

_One heartbeat… _

His angry red palm stretched open, the flesh oozing and shining with cooled, molten metal. A little arc of blue-white light stretched between his thumb and index finger, snapping and sizzling like a teeny viper. The stings against his flesh reverberated through the metal rivulets tattooing his arm, shot bolts of sheer agony through the wrists he would slit with his own teeth if he did not accomplish his task.

_Two heartbeat…_

How much time did he have before his brother struck him down? Before his son ended him for good? A second? Two?

Just enough.

He plunged the mini lightning bolt into the baby's chest.

The tiny body shuddered in his arms. Something wet expelled out of his mouth.

He inhaled.

And he cried.

Loudly.


	45. Amazing Grace

**Sorry, once again, for the long time between updates. It's been a long road and I'm finally at the end. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around and reviewed. I wouldn't be doing this--or any writing at all--without you guys cheering me on.  
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**This one is for Father's Day. Hope you all like it.  
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****Amazing Grace**

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,  
That saved a wretch like me...._

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Ozai sat in his jail cell, scratching at the crispy, oozing scabs crusting his forearms. It had been kind of Toph to remove the little veins of metal from his damaged flesh. But he'd eschewed the Waterbending healing available to him in favor of traditional bandages.

_Stupid noble idiot._ Not only were the linen strips hard to keep clean in this wretched, festering dungeon, but they reeked of the ointments the physicians insisted upon applying to the wounds. "We wouldn't want you to die from infection," they'd mutter, though their acerbic tone told Ozai otherwise. After all, he'd nearly killed the heir to the throne.

He picked at one large crusty plate, prying it up by one corner with a long fingernail, debating whether or not to tear the ugly bit off to expose the tender, vulnerable flesh beneath. It would hurt, and it might get infected, but pain was good. Pain and the incessant maddening itch…he deserved it all.

"You have a visitor," the guard called flatly from just outside the cell. He let the scab fall back in place. The door opened, sending a blinding shaft of orange fire light into the room. He squinted. A figure loomed large in the doorway, and for a strange moment, Ozai thought he was seeing a future version of himself on the other side of the bars.

Maybe the wounds were gangrenous and he was starting to hallucinate.

The door closed once more, and his eyes readjusted to the dimness. Recognizing his visitor, he sat up, clutching the bars.

"How's the baby? And Katara?" He wished he didn't drawl quite so much—it made him sound arrogant. But since the Firebending suppressant dosage had been tripled, he was punchy all the time now. It was an effort most days to keep his eyes open and remember to eat his meals and evacuate his bowels. But for this conversation, he needed to be clear-headed.

His visitor pulled up a stool and sat before the cage. It was a monstrous, doorless contraption Toph had constructed with her tiny, bare hands, weaving long pikes of steel around him in situ. Even with her arm in a cast, she was not to be underestimated.

Ozai's visitor took a long, bracing pull from his travel mug of tea and cleared his throat. "They're both doing fine," Iroh said. "Yugoda has given them both a clean bill of health, though little Mako has a rather dashing scar on his chest from that jolt you gave him. It looks like a starburst flower right over his heart." He smiled. "It's just like his father's. The girls are really going to like it."

"How…how is Zuko doing?" Ozai asked quietly.

"He hasn't forgiven you." Iroh set his cup down. But with a thoughtful tilt of his chin, added, "Yet."

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't, either." Ozai leaned his head on the cold metal bars.

"Wouldn't you?" Something shone in the old man's eyes. "Father never treated you all that well, either, but you forgave him, didn't you?"

The ex-Fire Lord snorted. "I think you overestimate my streak of kindness."

"I think it is the streak of a master's brush. It has thick and thin parts to it, fades and darkens and disappears at will. But the stroke is there nonetheless, and can't be taken back." Iroh tugged at his beard, smiled lopsidedly. "I'm sorry, I started with a metaphor, but I can't remember where I was taking it."

"Something about the great painting of life being made up of master strokes, perhaps?" Ozai offered blandly. "Something about how my stroke is about being part of the whole picture?"

The old retired general chuckled. "You always were the better poet."

They shared a quiet laugh. They hadn't shared one since before their mother had died. "Tell me about my family since they locked me up again, brother. Tell me about my grandchildren in the few weeks that have passed. What are they like?"

"Azuria is a belligerent, greedy, manipulative, attention-hogging, adorable son of a gun," Iroh summarized.

"Just like her mother." He sighed wistfully. "And Mako?"

Iroh shrugged. "Quiet. Happy. Bright. I look at him and…it's the strangest thing, Ozai. His eyes are like Katara's, but they remind me of an old man's, ringed with wisdom. He likes to laugh, though. Especially at his little cousin."

"His health is stable? There are no lasting effects?"

"None. Both of the children are well."

Ozai stared at his hands. "And Ursa…my wife? How is she?"

"She's been busy enjoying her grandbabies." He frowned a little. "She's not ready to see you yet."

His heart sagged. "I understand." He'd miscalculated so much in this last attempt at domination. All the things that had mattered were gone from his life now. And what had he earned? Nothing. Family was all that mattered. Family, friends, life, love, laughter…

None of which he had here in this dank little hole. Once upon a time, he thought he would have them; he thought he could have it all. His beautiful, lovely wife, a wonderful family, his father's respect, the adoration of the people… But he'd been so focused on those last two, he'd lost sight of the rest.

And then Zuko had been born, just barely, and everything had changed. He couldn't face the son that had nearly taken it all away from him…. _Had_ taken it all away. The boy whom Ursa loved more than life itself had replaced him, and Ozai had seen his happiness trickle away like so much sand in his fierce, desperate grasp for power and dominance…

No. Zuko was not to blame. The ex-Fire Lord assumed the burden of guilt now, added it to his long list of things to atone for here in his cell for the rest of his days.

"Forgiveness will come, brother," Iroh intoned, as if hearing his thoughts. "You must give them time."

"Which I have in abundance here." He gave a faint, grim smile and stared blearily around his custom-made cage. "No, Iroh, I think that I will spend the rest of my days paying penance for the destruction I have wrought on this earth and on my own family. My own family!" His bark of laughter was humorless. "Gods, how did I let myself become so blind? So hateful and ambitious?" Ozai ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, snuffing out the angry tears. "I burned and scared my son. I twisted my daughter. I exiled my wife, the woman I love, the mother of my children. Why did I do all those things?"

Iroh held back a torrent of witty comebacks. His brother was having an epiphany. No need to mock him. Out loud, anyhow.

"I have earned this prison, Iroh. I have earned it with every drop of blood I spilled in the war. I earned it when I broke my oath to the Waterbender who saved the woman I love. I earned it when I betrayed our father. I earned it with every last person I alienated, including you."

"Admitting your wrongs is the first step of the journey, brother."

"And I intend on walking that path until my soles bleed," Ozai said wholeheartedly.

Their conversation ended, Iroh stood. "I will return," he promised his brother.

"I look forward to the day." Ozai smiled.

But that day never came. Iroh never returned to the jail. And Ozai never wondered why.

* * *

_I once was lost but now am found,  
Was blind, but now, I see._

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Beyond the cell and down the hall, relegated to a dark corner no one ever visited, Iroh sensed her standing in wait in the shadows.

"We never should have started _Fadmon,_" the Earthbender said quietly. "I should be in there with him. So should you."

Iroh shook his head. "What's done is done, Toph."

"I should have shut it down when things started heating up. I should have toned down the editorial. I was so caught up laughing at everyone…" She bit down hard on her lip, hot tears threatening her sightless eyes. "What did we do?"

"We made the people speak up for what they thought was important. We gave everyone on both sides of the fight a reason to care."

"We incited a war!" Toph slammed a fist against the wall, shaking the prison foundations. Sand trickled from the cracked stone like tears. "Over what? Some stupid gossip rag?" She clenched the first issue of _Fadmon_ in her fist.

Iroh shook his head. "I know it's hard for you to understand, Toph, but this was about more than just some little leaflet full of junk journalism. We're entering an unprecedented time of peace. After a hundred years, the four nations are finally, finally at rest."

"We stopped that pretty quick, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. But we gave the people a reason to work together. To remind them that peace and harmony is fragile, precious. No one must ever forget the horrors of war." Iroh's eyes misted over, grew distant. "This battle had no casualties, no deaths."

"It nearly did."

"Yes." He sighed. "Toph, you are young. But this is something you must understand. Freedom comes at a terrible price. The freedom to write what you want, say what you want, do what you want…these things, in times of prosperity and peace, are the key to our staying free. _Fadmon_ was a mere exercise of those rights. Zuko and the others must learn to take a little criticism, to turn a blind eye—so to speak—on the unfounded ramblings of a cabbage merchant and his cronies. He cannot become his father and launch an attack every time someone makes fun of him. He cannot stomp out criticism of him or his policies. Dissent is necessary, and open discussion is vital to maintaining the right to write. For us to be truly free here in the Fire Nation and all over the world, we must allow the likes of _Fadmon, _and perhaps worse, to continue."

Toph blew out a breath. "I just wish we didn't have to be the ones doing all the freedom fighting." She rapped on the stone wall behind her. The section dislodged and slid back to reveal a large room where an enormous printing press was being operated by a number of discreet Earthbenders and Ink— er, Waterbenders Toph had specially trained. The first issue of _Fadmon_ since the war rolled off the stone tablet press. The headline:

STILL KICKING! ZUTARA BABY ALIVE AND WELL. A beautiful portrait of Mako eclipsed the page.

"We won't be the only ones," Iroh assured her. "Others will appear. Fans never say die."

"I hope you're right." Toph surveyed the work around her with a growing sense of pride and tinged with just a hint of sadness. What would the future bring? How long would _Fadmon_ last before it was replaced? "We wouldn't be here otherwise."

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**I know, a little heavy for a humor piece. But as Iroh might say, you can't appreciate the sun without a couple days of rain.**

**Stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	46. Epilogue: More Than One Lifetime

**Welcome to the conclusion of _In the Family Way._ I would like to send my sincerest thanks for all the wonderful reviews from everyone, and your continued support in this community. (Sorry I wasn't able to reply to every single one of them!) I would not be the person or writer I am today without all the accolades and lovely praise and criticism this wonderful group has provided.**

**I am sad to say I will not likely be writing any more Avatar fanfiction, apart from the occasional drabble: I am actively pursuing a romance writing career and need to spend the time honing my craft. When I do get publish (crosses fingers) keep an eye out for an announcement from me at FFnet. I will be dedicating my work to the comm, all the beta readers, the fans, the creators...you just wait.**

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Epilogue: More than One Lifetime

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"Today's the day, isn't it, Momma?" Azuria bounced on the balls of her feet with unfettered glee.

"Yes, my pet. Today is the day." Azula stroked her daughter's silky hair, flicked a bit of fluff off her shoulder. She was a happy child, vain and sometimes a little bossy, but well-loved and as well-behaved as anyone could expect a five-year-old to be. Azula was so proud of her. "Be good, okay? I might have a treat for you at dinnertime if you behave."

"Treats!" The little princess danced her "happy treats" dance, arms waving around wildly, her burgeoning Firebending talent pouring from her in a dazzling rainbow shower of sparks.

"Is someone getting treats?" a voice asked. "I like treats, too!"

"Daddy!" Azuria threw herself into her father's strong, open arms. He lifted her up and gave her a kiss on the nose. "Momma said she has treats for me."

"Only if you behave," Azula reiterated. It was such a trial sometimes to have to repeat herself, but it was all right because it was her daughter. "It's very important that you listen to Mommy, okay?"

Azuria gave her a very serious nod and grasped her father's cheeks between her chubby hands. "You hear that, Daddy? That means no disappearing into the rosebushes to scare me in the garden, or any of your other Earthbending tricks!"

Haru laughed and rubbed the tip of his daughter's nose. "As you command, princess."

"I thought _I_ was your princess." Azula slid her arm around her husband, embracing her own perfect little family. She stuck her lip out petulantly.

Haru's expressive eyebrow quirked up. "Only when Uncle Jet is babysitting and we have time to ourselves." Leaning in, he whispered into Azula's ear hotly, _"Later."_

"Now that's what I like to see." Fire Lord Zuko—and there was no denying his status now as a man and the leader of his nation—strode into the reception room, a serene Katara at his side. "Happy, smiling faces."

"Without the crazed delusions of grandeur, of course," Katara quipped, though not unkindly. In a sling, she cradled the sleeping one-year-old "royal spare"—though only the stuffiest and douchebaggiest of the court would dare call Katara's precious second son, Iroku, a spare anything.

Mako, stiff and proud even at five years old, marched in beside his parents, chin high. Though he'd been born prematurely and under the most inauspicious circumstances, he was as robust and intelligent as any child his age (or more so, according to his proud parents). As soon as he caught a glimpse of his cousin, he immediately broke rank.

"Did you bring it?" he enthused. "Didja, didja, didja?"

"Of course I did," Azuria answered imperiously. She slid from her father's grasp and reached into her pocket, but hesitated, glancing around warily at the adults in the room.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Katara asked.

"Nothing, Mom." Mako scratched his nose, a sure sign he was lying.

"Son," Zuko loomed over him, "you know how important this day is. You wouldn't do anything to ruin it, would you?"

The boy's lip stiffened. "No, sir."

The Fire Lord's face melted into a smile. He grabbed the young prince and he shrieked as his father dangled him upside down by the ankles. "Are you sure? Really sure? I could torture it out of you, you know."

"Daddy!" Mako complained through his laughter, walking on his hands as Zuko led him around like an inverted wheelbarrow.

Katara planted her hands on her hips. "Stop that, both of you. You're going to ruin Mako's suit!"

"Awww…" Father and son straightened, brushed themselves off.

At that moment, Toph entered the reception room, her mouth a grim slash against her face. Zuko and Azula both rushed forward.

"It's done?"

The Earthbender nodded. "It was…really amazing. Aang's…" She shook her head. "That kid's one powerful bender."

"Was our mother there?"

"She was."

"What was her mood like?"

Toph shrugged. "I couldn't tell. I swear, Azula, you and she have the same inscrutable heart."

"Not so inscrutable," Haru put in, reclaiming his wife's lips.

Toph pulled a face. "Eewww, gross. You'd think three years of the mushy newlywed stuff is enough already?"

"Not nearly." A wide, voracious smile lit Azula's face. She knew her friend was just jealous—monogamy wasn't exactly something Toph was ready to embrace yet, anyhow.

Iroh glided in, looking a little nervous. Not bad nervous, but giddy, as if it were New Year's and he was waiting to open his first red pocket. "Is he here yet?"

"On his way."

Seconds later, Sokka and Suki pelted through the double doors, their two-year-old twin boys bouncing against their hips. "Are we late? Did we miss anything?" Sokka wheezed, out of breath. His elder son by two minutes, Hikota, grasped at his goatee and tugged hard, protesting the cessation of jouncing movement. Not to be outdone, Kato grabbed at a frazzled Suki's blouse and tugged it down to expose far more than she was willing to in present company. The Kyoshi warrior gratefully handed him over to her proud husband as she repaired her top and ran shaking fingers through her hair. She loved her family dearly, but who would have thought raising Sokka's children would be so much work?

(Toph silently raised her hand, then slowly lowered it. And then she sighed, resigned to the encroaching senility and madness that seemed to claim all the worlds most powerful Earthbenders….)

"No worries. You're just in time, Sokka." Katara went to admire the little boys, smoothing her hand over a slightly rounded belly. Would Mako like another little brother, or a little sister? If she were as lucky as Suki to bear twins, maybe she'd get one of each…

The double doors opened. Everyone turned as Aang drifted in, smiling wanly. He'd grown so much, done so much for everyone. Zuko watched the man who'd once been nothing more than a means to an end serenely come to a stop before the assemblage. His silvery eyes shone with accomplishment…and mischief.

"Whatever you guys do," he began softly, "don't laugh."

Zuko balked. Had things not gone well in the prison? He'd assumed the Avatar had taken his father's Firebending abilities away for the safety and security of all…

A strange rumbling echoed down the long corridor leading to the reception room. The floor trembled and everyone's nervousness doubled. It sounded like…gears. Like machinery as only the Fire Nation made it—loud and heavy and dirty, grinding away at the finely polished marble of the palace floors. As the sound drew closer, everyone shifted into fighting stances. It couldn't be helped—so many years of peace and prosperity had made them antsy.

What the hell was that noise?

Then_ it_ turned the corner. A massive sphere of glittering onyx latticed steel. A finely woven cage of diamond-hard space-metal filaments. A—

"GIANT HAMSTER BALL!" Mako and Azuria shrieked in glee.

"It's not a hamster ball!" Ozai moaned from within his black halo prison, humiliated.

At his side, his wife consoled him. "Now, now, dear, we talked about this."

"I can't Firebend anymore! Why do I have to walk around in this thing?"

"Because even though we've forgiven you, we don't really trust you." It was only temporary until they could trust him—everyone knew that, and they all hoped that time would be sooner rather than later. Zuko stepped forward. "Welcome home, father."

"I'd give you a hug," Ozai offered flatly, "but…" He gestured with disdain at his new mobile prison, handcrafted by Toph and Aang.

Zuko caught himself before he said something scathing. The time for family disputes was over—they'd always have disagreements, but their old enmity was in the past. Iroh had told them all the story of the Waterbender who'd saved Ursa's life. He understood Ozai now. And he forgave. Because that was what Aang would do.

But that didn't mean he trusted Daddy any farther than he could throw him…hence the cage. They would see if Aang's bending neuter took and leave the hamster ball in place for a few months, at least. If Ozai proved he was rehabilitated, they would reassess.

Azula rounded up her daughter and stepped forward with Katara and her sons. "Father, I'd like to introduce you to your grandchildren, Princess Azuria, Crown Prince Mako, and the wee one is Prince Iroku."

Iroku snored on, unimpressed by the events around him. The older children were too fascinated by the man in the giant hamster ball to follow social conventions. "Are you really our granddad?" Mako asked in awe.

"Why are you in that giant ball?" Azuria asked, clutching the thin lattice of the cage.

"How do you go to the bathroom in there?" Mako inspected the doorless contraption.

Seeing his grandchildren for the first time in the flesh, Ozai was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. He fell to his knees and reached out shaking hands to grasp the grubby little fists clinging to his prison. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to hold his shit together.

Azuria peered at him. "Hey, why are you crying, Grandpa?"

"You didn't lightning-fy the cage, did you?" Mako accused his cousin.

"Of course not!" But it looked like something she was considering now.

"I know what will cheer him up." He nodded to the little princess, who dug in her pockets. "Grandpa, we got you a present."

"You…did?" Ozai sniffled and stared between the two children, the most precious things he'd ever seen. He swore at that moment he would die before anyone ever tried to harm these two beautiful beings.

"Uh-huh." Azuria clasped the thing tightly in her hands and held it out.

The adults leaned in and gasped.

"Where did you kids get that?" Zuko demanded.

Mako and Azuria shrugged together. "Dunno."

"That's Avatar Roku's!" Aang exclaimed.

"It's supposed to be worn by the crown prince," Iroh corrected the Avatar. His eyes shifted accusingly to Zuko. "Don't tell me you lost it after I gave it to you?"

"I… Well, it was kind of the wrong time to be handing me trinkets, Uncle. I mean, we were in the midst of war! And then I defected and ran off, and I was traveling with the Avatar and—"

"You couldn't have stashed it away? Zuko, I managed to dig that artifact out from beneath hundred-year-old volcanic rock! Do you have any idea what it took for me to smuggle that thing into prison?" Iroh winced at the uncomfortable memory.

"I thought it was a napkin ring! How was I supposed to keep track of it after—"

"You hung on to my nasty old slipper for months, but you couldn't keep a little top-knot ring safe? What in the name of Agni made you prioritize my slipper over a centuries-old royal artifact…?"

Mako and Azuria grew bored of the adults' bickering and turned back to the more interesting and bemused man in the room. "We thought you should have it," Azuria said. "It would look much nicer on you, anyhow."

Ozai stared. "Mako…that belongs on _your_ head. _You_ are the crown prince."

"It's just a hair ornament," Mako replied. Dutifully, he recited, "Father says that it's not the garments that make you a prince, but how you don your mantle of responsibility and honor. The lowest of refugees can be princely, and the richest of men thugs." He took the little top-knot ring from his cousin and held it out to his grandfather. "This is for you. I heard a story once that Great-great grandfather Sozin gave this to Avatar Roku so they would always be friends. I want us to always be friends, too."

"Me, too!" Azuria chimed in, not wanting to be excluded.

Ozai couldn't help but point out, "You realize that in the end, your great-great grandfather betrayed and murdered that friend and started the Great War, don't you?"

Mako's face screwed up in deep thought. "I don't think he really wanted to. He was just unhappy and missed his friend lots. Uncle Iroh says people do stupid things sometimes when they're sad and lonely." The little boy's eyes glowed with their clear, auric intensity. "Were you ever sad and lonely, Grandpa?"

The ex-Fire Lord smiled softly, and tears flowed down his cheeks. "More than you'll ever know. But never again." He reached out and took the top-knot ring from his grandson, slipped it on over his bare head and fixed it on. He raised his chin, felt the weight of the little crown…but it was nothing at all.

"It becomes you, Ozai," Ursa said, her voice full of soft pride and love.

Iroh and Zuko looked upon the hamster-ball-encased third member of their trifecta of family strife, felt a soul-deep click. They were whole once more.

Azula's heart felt heavy. For the first time ever, she saw her father as a man to be loved instead of feared. And she knew her daughter would love him, too.

The other members of the congregation sniffled, wiped tears from bright, hot eyes. Aang watched passively, and he felt the shift of lives and the stirring of hearts deep in his spirit. All the Avatars of the past as far back as eternity seemed to sigh as one within him. The healing process was finally complete.

"Well, this was fun," Toph announced loudly to the overemotional crowd, "but if you ask me, we could have done with fewer waterworks."

"You say that about all our adventures," Sokka ribbed her.

"Only because you're usually the one who ends up crying," the Earthbender returned with a sniff.

"Funny how it's all come to this," Aang said, beaming around the room. "Pretty hard to imagine what would have happened if Katara hadn't complained about washing Sokka's dirty socks."

"As if you barely needed to life a finger?" Zuko asked. "Avatar, you don't give yourself enough credit. You're the one we should blame for all this romantic drama."

Aang shrugged, smiled. "What can I say? The spirits work through me. I am just their humble tool."

"Yeah, you're a tool all right."

"Aw, Toph, why do you always have to ruin perfectly good moments with sarcasm and witty quips?" Katara moaned.

"Because life needs more laughs," she declared firmly. "And the end always feels a little too sad for me."

"The curtains never come down on life," Iroh said sagely. "Ours is a story that transcends lifetimes. And it will continue ever after."

"Aww…guys…you're making me feel all mushy." Aang held his arms open. "Group hug?"

One by one, they gathered around the last Airbender. Katara and Zuko, the quintessential lovers; Sokka and Suki, the enviable pair; Toph, the all-seeing oracle; Iroh, the sage; Azula and Haru, the unexpected tricksters; Ursa, the mother; and Ozai, the hamster-balled outcast returned to the fold.

Oh, and all their brood, of course.

And Jet, who managed to sneak himself in to cop a feel. (He was kinda lonely, silently hiding in his little corner of the room—but even he had his place among this set.)

That was them. One big happy family of friendships that would last over lifetimes, generations and incarnations….

"Hey!" Katara flinched. "Who's grabbing my ass?"

"Oh, Katara." Aang smiled. "Just hold hands."

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**THE END.**

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**Best Wishes and Fishes, Vicki So.**


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